Ripped From The Pages
by Star Otaku
Summary: Read Or Die Noir crossover Warning: spoilers, mild shoujoai, and mild violence. The British library's top agents must recruit the world's deadliest assassins in a mission to stop an impending Ijin threat.
1. Prologue

Disclaim or Die: Read Or Die (R.O.D) is copyrighted by and the property of Hideyuki Kurata, Akitaro Yamada, Studio Deen/SME, Sony, and currently licensed to Manga Entertainment.

**Ripped From the Pages  
Prologue**

Read or Die.

It is a simple choice: the quest for knowledge or pursuit of death.

The choices aren't all that different in origin. They stem from power, more specifically, the want of it.

To read is to obtain knowledge. Wisdom, intelligence, genius - they are the same. But to become filled with a divine understanding of everything; true enlightenment, by the spiritual, the physical, the mental, it is complete harmony that can be found out of chaos. To know brings the power to create... or to destroy. To utilize it for the benefit of the entire world... or reap bitter waste upon all.

To die is to make life forfeit. Maybe even transcend to another plane, higher than what could ever be physically comprehended. But for the physical, it is complete loss. Void, null, nothing. Especially when you hold that ability. Cut down what is in your way. Trim the obstacles and make room for your destiny to grow. There is the power to hold a life, or many lives, in your hand... elevate them, or crush them.

But both are driven by power - to search for it, to obtain it, to harness it. It is an all-consuming passion that would refine one and raise them to their destiny... or bring them to perish within the flames of ambition.

_What will your choice be: read or die?_

"Die."

_Why is it so?_

"Because they are unworthy of their existence."

_Who is not worthy?_

"Everyone on the Earth. They are wasteful of their gifts and seek to only corrupt and destroy."

_What will you do?_

"Take hold of my destiny."

_Then open your eyes, and embrace it._

Two sky blue eyes opened to new surroundings, a voluptuous body bathed in a sickly radioactive green. Nothing but cylinders of her brethren, ready to be born.

"Yomiko Readman, The Paper, reporting to the I-jin."

* * *

Something wasn't right. She held it right there in her hand, but it wasn't perfect. Well, it was, but not exactly... If only she could grasp it tight, make it stay that way. Her hands fumbled on the smooth and level seat for just a piece. She had done it before...

"Yomiko-chan! Why did you stop?"

Still groping around the bench, she finally grabbed onto it and held it up. With a mere thought, the ribbon snaked around the finished end and twisted itself taut.

"Ah... I think I'm finished, Nancy-chan!" Yomiko looked down at her hand. She held the finished pigtail and tickled it against her friend's pale cheek.

"You've finished one side! Now please, do the other!" Nancy chided between girlish giggles.

"Hai! Hai! I'll get to the right one." Yomiko set to tearing another paper ribbon for a hair tie. Her hands gently clutched at another bundle of locks and lifted them up, ready to part them for further braiding.

Yomiko sighed. This girl sitting with her wasn't the same. She wasn't her Nancy-san, but for her sake, she would take care of her friend's "little sister." That's why she visited her every chance she could get. They would always go outside and sit on the same faded green, wooden bench, overlooking the sea. And every time, they'd talk of nonsense things, fold origami, or read books together. Almost always, they'd do everything in one day.

She set them into three locks. It was these very minute and diligent things that pleased Yomiko when she spent time with Nancy-chan, as she had so christened the clone. This very incarnation was something of her friend that she could hold on to. Almost like getting to know the woman that she could be. The physical similarities were stunning every time; the same, right down to every detail.

Just by the look of the deep blue hair alone, Yomiko's mind regressed to the similar memory of this moment. Comparing every stored detail of the original to the copy.

The plastic brush made its way to order delicate silken strands of deep blue. Deep blue, like the water seen before them. Flowing past everything. The brush, it was made of solid matter, and look how easily it passed through every individual strand. Down, down, every strand so tangible.

Yomiko hummed lightly, remembering a wonderful time like this. Someone she loved dearly was doing this with her, but she was too absorbed in her book to really notice. No, she did notice, but she couldn't express the sensations she felt at that time. The words on the page did for her... her first love would always be the written word.

"I want to be loved, yesterday and today... I don't know how many times I've admired you... You, my life, keep on loving me..." Yomiko recited, just like she did before.

A dreamy sigh was heard. "That's very beautiful, Yomiko-chan. Did you read that from one of your books?"

"Hai, it was my favourite book. But I gave it away to your onee-san. She was very fond of it too."

"Onee-san..." Nancy-chan's shoulders sagged slightly. "A kind and wonderful person who saved the world..."

In Yomiko's hands, she held another bundle of locks, ready to be plaited. And they still weren't finished. Crisscrossing lines dropped down from between her fingers.

"Your hair is so fine, Nancy-chan..." Yomiko murmured. "It must probably run in the family."

She gently ran her fingers again through her hair, catching the errant strands, and putting them back in their place. She looked down again. How odd that these hairs were of a shorter length than the rest. She lifted them up, and she looked down the lines, down to the scalp. It was much paler than the rest of Nancy-chan's skin... and where these shorter hairs grew, they grew unevenly with the rest. They came from a small recovering bald patch.

Yomiko plaited the hair, letting her mind wander over the discrepancy. How did it get there? With her mind roving through thoughts, they strayed into memories.

_"You... traitor!" Ikkyu gurgled out past the blood in his mouth. His hand reached up and roughly ran itself through her hair, clutching at her scalp._

_"Don't we match?" Mata Hari said plainly, holding him close, her hand doing the very same thing to his heart._

_"You... you..." He futilely rasped. With all his strength, his death grip slipped away, taking a lock with it._

_Nancy didn't even flinch at the physical pain. A sad look crossed her face as she felt her former lover die and his body go limp in her arms. She watched his arm drop to his side, every last bit of hair fluttering to the ground._

_Her eyes turned, fixated on Yomiko. There was a grave matter at hand._

_"The Paper."_

"Yomiko-chan? You stopped again. Are you really done this time?" Nancy-chan asked.

"Ah..." She looked down again. A perfect braided pigtail, finished with a strip of paper ribbon. "Hai. I am."

Nancy turned around and clapped her hands happily. "Sugoi! Let me braid yours now!"

"Ie... Gomen. I'm afraid I must go now. I remembered I had to do something very important." Yomiko hurriedly got up from the bench and took her travois with her.

When she reached the stone path that would take her back to the brick building, she bowed respectfully to the saddened young woman. "I'll come back again, I promise."

"But- Ie..." The amnesiac unsurely bowed in return. A slender hand raised itself to wave weakly good-bye. "H-hai. Ja ne, Yomiko-chan."

With a heavy heart, Yomiko turned around, heading out to The Royal British Library's Division of Special Operations.

To be continued...

Author's Notes:  
This will turn into a crossover, but I will say that this is a more Read Or Die oriented crossover. Noir will be their back-up, so to say, so I don't really know if this should be counted as a real Anime Crossover. This will be a very short series, but each chapter will be relatively dense, especially the last one, since I want to give this a short and crisp OAV feel; don't worry, there will be tons of action (especially in the last chapter) and sprinklings of shoujo-ai romance. Mainly between The Paper and Miss Deep. Now, I will move onto my spiel.  
Read Or Die is the wonderful 3 episode OAV! It's been called a cult classic, what with its strange "James Bond with a library card" theme. It's got great music, and I'm aware that there's manga and novels out there of it. I was able to get a hold of 7 chapters of the first volume of manga from Manga Project.  
There's also the TV series Read Or Dream, but I'm strictly taking most of my references within the frame of the OAV anime. I'm sure there will be many slight references and throwbacks to the manga (specifically what little I have read of it), but they'll be sparse and not so important. But I will give any information necessary about them at the end of future chapters.  
For anyone who is curious about Read Or Die or is unfamiliar to this series, here are two informative sites:  
· Read Or Die.Org - www.readordie.org  
· Yomiko's Library - cupped-expressions.net/rod/


	2. Chapter 1: Exposition

Disclaim or Die: Read Or Die (R.O.D) is copyrighted by and the property of Hideyuki Kurata, Akitaro Yamada, Studio Deen/SME, Sony, and currently licensed to Manga Entertainment. Noir is copyrighted by and the property of Ryoe Tsukimura, Bee Train, Victor Entertainment, Inc. and currently licensed to ADV Films.

**Ripped From the Pages  
Chapter 1 - Exposition**

Nothing but books. An immense catalogue of almost every rare book imaginable. It was a great achievement for the Royal British Library. And the acquisition of such priceless tomes wouldn't be possible without the Division of Special Operations. The search for knowledge was what this division was here for. No matter how rare, or how dangerous, or obscure... it was all part of the history of the world. Any little bit and scrap, a glimpse into another time from which one could now learn from.

Joker looked around the vast and full stacks that surrounded him. It was impressive. A breathtaking sight of the wisdom and imagination of the ages that was all around him. He didn't think anyone appreciated such a place any more than he. Well, actually, one person outclassed him in such a respect.

"Joker-san! Joker-san!"

He looked over to the source of the cries, and found The Paper working her way past the diligent DIET workers, the ubiquitous travois trailing behind her. Every single one of the personnel stopped or stepped back in their paths to let her pass.

"Good morning Yomiko!" cried Wendy to her favourite agent.

She continued past the blonde girl to her superior. She stormed up to the man and asked:

"Where did you find her?"

Joker looked down at her. "The Paper; calm down. Whatever are you talking about?"

She grabbed the lapels of his green blazer. "Nancy-san! Where did you find her?!"

"You must ask the person in charge of the I-jin base search team," he coolly replied.

Yomiko's voice raised, and she began to pull at his lapels. "Then take me to them! I want to know if we have the right Nancy-san!"

The Joker gripped her hands with his to stop her from shaking him. He cast his eyes about the room to see everyone's heads turned to the little scene. He cleared his throat loudly, a signal to return to work, and to quiet Yomiko. He removed her hands on him and stepped back. Casually, he straightened himself and glanced over to Wendy.

"Wendy, get the files and bring them to me."

The blonde nodded curtly, knowing exactly what he meant, and set off on her way.

Then he waved his hand at Yomiko.

"The Paper. We shall see the Gentleman. Come along."

He led her surely, past the bustling workers, all with stacks of papers in their hands. They parted for him and The Paper. But the latter, even with a clear path before her, brushed and bumped past each of them, uttering timid apologies.

The Joker ushered Yomiko into the private head office that belonged to the man in charge of the library force. He closed the door and then stood before the large oak desk, before the frail yet powerful man that sat behind it. The room was dim, even though the sun shone brightly through the blinds, but what little light was permitted inside, they could see they were surrounded by books again.

"Mr. Gentleman, The Paper is here to discuss our former associate," Joker started with all formality, respect, and severity.

The wizened and ancient face leaned forward a bit, out of the covering of shadow, and looked at the two of them. Behind those aged eyes, even the one hidden by the elaborate monocle, there was a glimmer of knowing. Though the Gentleman looked quite old, but there was still a youthful spirit within him as his thin lips smiled slightly.

"It's about Miss Deep," he stated.

Yomiko jumped at the mention of her code name. "Hai! Nancy-san!"

Joker sighed at what he'd have to tell her. Why did she have to know? Now of all times, if not at all? Maybe he underestimated her. She was always so perceptive; not blinded by books, but rather, given clearer eyes because of them. One of the defining qualities of a Paper Master.

"The Paper, please. We knew this day would come, but we didn't think it would be this soon. We were unsure about how we should disclose this information to you, or rather, to anyone else."

The quiet knocking and the click of the doorknob alerted them that Wendy had arrived with the files. She handed the semi-thick folders to Joker.

"Wendy, please make us some tea."

"Yes sir!" the secretary answered as she left the room.

Opening up the folders, Joker placed them diligently on the desk. He motioned for The Paper to come closer and see for herself.

Pictures: nothing but pictures of the ocean, the stray papers that littered the vast liquid's surface, and the marring I-jin base in the middle of it all.

Such memories nearly brought Yomiko to tears. She held back the drops forming in her eyes, bringing herself to pore over each one.

"Where did you find her?" she asked again as she sensed the blonde man take a step closer to her.

She could hear him take a heavy breath, trying to think up the proper explanation. "We found the first body below the countdown tower. She was face up in the water; well, not exactly as you see in this picture."

Both of them were staring at the morbidly comical picture of Mata Hari's body floating in the water, chest up. Amidst the dank and twisting pipes and concrete, there was the water and her body. Her glassy eyes looking up from underwater as with the rest of her body, save for her breasts and stomach.

Joker continued. "We did try to revive her, but she was submerged for far too long. We were unable to-"

"But you said memory loss due to asphyxiation..." Her quiet words cut through his explanation, temporarily deflating him.

He looked over her shoulder, and placed a comforting hand there. But he still spoke as her superior. "We were unable to bring her back. I'm very sorry, but we couldn't."

Yomiko turned her head to look up at him. "Then how do you explain the Nancy I see in the hospital?"

"While you and Drake were sent back here for recovery and debriefing... the rocket's flight path degraded."

"It fell."

He released his hand on her shoulder, and smoothed back his slick blonde hair. "Ah... yes, it fell. The clean up and observation teams left behind tracked it a few kilometers from the I-jin base and quickly salvaged it. We were quite fortunate to find her inside."

"But you said memory loss due to asphyxiation," she stated again.

"The atmosphere is very thin at the altitude the rocket had reached, and there was the open escape door... the air got thinner inside and outside of the rocket. She didn't have much oxygen left to breathe up there."

Yomiko continued to look down, her hand now on the photo taken of the scene inside the rocket. Her finger just mere millimeters from Nancy's prone form, lying by Ikkyu's body. The ruined piano cables and the dead maestro littered the background.

"You found the true Nancy-san and kept her from me."

The Gentleman looked at the girl; he had known her when she was a young budding Paper Master, and she was still as true as ever. He gave her a paternal nod, and in a guiding fashion started his explanation. "Yomiko, we didn't tell you about this because of how much you care for her. You would want to help her remember who you are and all of your time together. It's quite probable that she won't have any recollection of it at all, and where would you be then? It would be quite painful to never bring back the one you love, the way she once was. But if she does recover those memories, and even fully at that, she'll also remember the things that she did before that period as well. Every single act that she did for the I-jin; in her allegiance with them, she'll have to stand trial for her crimes against humanity."

A sniffle. "But it isn't fair."

"No, it isn't, The Paper." Joker looked at her pensively. "How can she redeem herself?"

"She made her choice when it mattered. She chose to save the world. Isn't that enough to clear her of her crimes?"

"It may or may not be."

The Gentleman smiled again, a clever glint sparkling in his garnet monocle. "We will let things run their course. Yomiko, you may continue your visits to Nancy Makuhari. If during any time she is in your presence that there is a partial or even full recovery of her amnesia, she will immediately be diverted to your charge. The Paper, you will help rehabilitate Miss Makuhari into a productive member of society... and a top agent for The Royal British Library's Division of Special Operations."

Yomiko sniffled again, then let the words sink in. She brightened. "Sh-she's pardoned?"

"Not yet. But I will do everything in my power to see that she is. She is too valuable of an agent to loose." Mr. Gentleman backed his wheelchair away from the desk, back into the shadows. "Hopefully, we have bought ourselves time to let her remember on her own. And you will be with her every step of the way."

Joker nodded in agreement. "Indeed. You both make an excellent team. When she does recover, only you will teach her, The Paper, and you alone. If you need assistance, choose to do so at your own discretion." He picked up another file folder buried under the photograph one. "In your care, all that everyone knows about Miss Makuhari is that she's still in the institution. No one else must know about her rehabilitation, lest we give ourselves away to our enemies... and to our allies."

Yomiko nodded slowly, a smile creeping towards each ear. She nodded happily, knowing full well the seriousness of such instructions and their implications, but still having a chance to be with her Nancy-san. "Hai! Hai! I promise to do my best! I'll keep it secret!"

Joker couldn't help but let out a small smile and knowingly opened the door, allowing Wendy to carefully trot inside. She had arrived with their tea, and was making sure not to disturb the silver tray and chinaware in her hands. Despite her little stumbles and the nervous rattling of the cups, she managed to set it down with great delicacy on a clean table.

The suave higher up of DIET swept a hand over the arrangement.

"Thank you Wendy. Shall we have some tea?"

* * *

It had been days since Yomiko last visited, when she left so abruptly. Nancy still waited for her to return, every day. She sat at their usual bench, the one with the beautiful view over the ocean.

There was something about the last visit that saddened her. She had upset Yomiko-chan somehow. If only she knew how much she missed her. She sat with her brushes by her side, ready for plaiting, and colourful origami paper to play with and bring to life. She even had a new book to share!

The young woman shivered at the ocean breeze and gathered her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and bunching them to her ample chest. She rested her cheek on her knee, hoping to feel some warmth against the chill. Somehow, she did, a slight warm tingle; how thin the hospital garment was, it felt as if she were touching her own skin.

"Yomiko-chan... please come back..."

Sighing and looking out over the waters, she focused on the silence around her. Oh, how gloomy it was without her friend, Yomiko. The hospital always made her uncomfortable, and she felt like she'd been there before. Most of the staff regarded her as an over-stayed patient, someone they had to care for until she could be shuffled out of the facilities. And the way some of the nurses looked at her, a mix of pity and caution. But Yomiko always seemed to brighten things up; she never looked at her like that, only with the greatest of enthusiasm.

If she closed her eyes and imagined real hard, maybe Yomiko would be bounding towards her, ready for another day of sitting on their bench and reading...

"Nancy-chan! Nancy-chan!"

Just like that.

Her head shot up attentively, exposing her warmed cheek to the air again.

She smiled. Oh yes, even the slight tinny clattering and rattling of her travois as she brought it along with her everywhere.

It would get closer, and stop just as she was in front of her. Then, Nancy could open her eyes and look up, and there'd be Yomiko's beaming face, looking down at her...

Why, there she was. Oh, how this must be a powerful daydream. If she could just reach out and touch her-

"Nancy-chan! What are you doing? Why are you poking me, hm?"

Gasping, the blue-haired woman pulled her hand back. "Gomen ne, Yomiko-chan! I... I, ah, didn't think it was actually you... You left so suddenly last time, I didn't think you would come back so soon..."

"Nancy-chan, I... I left because I forgot about my work! I had to get an assignment. You know how forgetful I am." It was merely a half-truth, and Yomiko smiled reassuringly for the woman.

Her lips curled up slowly, soon mirroring her friend. "Oh, hai! You can be quite forgetful! Just as long as you didn't forget about me, ne?"

The Paper giggled as she took her usual seat on their bench. "Never, Nancy-san, never."

* * *

Hands neatly tucked into his pockets, The Joker looked about him, at all the hive-like activity that was going on in DIET headquarters. All employees, droves and droves of brown vests and black pants or skirts, were moving about the stacks, taking books and calling to and from each other at every piece of information they stumbled across. Then again, there would be a great cacophony of chatter if such a thing was to happen, and so many of them were equipped with radio headsets. Only a small handful of them were forced keep with the informality and that would rather give their vocal cords (and lungs) an exercise.

Joker shook his head as he witnessed a bout of miscommunication between two bridge, rather, book bunnies. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. They really should have taken the headsets.

But then again, this time, the Library was actually short of them for such a massive mobilization.

Of course, such a pace was needed now that so many things were happening at once.

The Paper's discovery that one amnesiac Nancy Makuhari was the true Miss Deep was among those things. Maybe the rush for her rehabilitation was another. There was probably no definite trigger for all the research that was being done at this moment, but such incidents skillfully coincided with the DIET's preparations.

But in any case, too many concerns were arising, namely centering around the I-jin.

A majority of the British Royal Library Force felt that all was settled after the suicide song and rocket incident. The war council had assumed that was the I-jin's only plan, and now that it was thwarted, all would return to normal.

_T__he Immortal Beloved_, the kikou books, they were to remain the safety of the Royal Library's custody. The Library of Congress could do without them, for in the official report, all of them were destroyed. Besides, the books were more important to them, for they needed to be skimmed in case the I-jin should arise again.

The probability of that was only a niggling worry for the war council, but Mr. Gentleman wasn't convinced. Of course, he didn't say it out loud, not even in his duties as leader. He was wise and knew when he should voice such concerns. He was subtle enough to extend the post-investigation of the I-jin and keep it going in case something should ever arise.

Something just did.

From the corner of his vision, he could spy Wendy trotting towards him with another armload of papers.

"Joker!" she cried. It seemed urgent.

He turned quickly to face his personal assistant. "What is it Wendy?"

"Paul and the others in research team thirty-seven found something concerning the kikou books." She nearly tripped forward, but stopped herself, saving face. A hand fished around the pile of folders and sheets in her arms and surfaced with one paper in hand. "Here it is!"

Joker briskly took the paper from her hand and let his eyes scan over it.

"Wendy, there's barely a thing on it."

"Yes... I know, Joker. But it's the one word that has been appearing again and again in all of the kikou books. Paul surely thought it was important."

He reread the word and subconsciously shivered at it.

"Joker?" came Wendy's worried voice at his reaction.

He paid no mind to her and kept his stoic gaze on the word before him. A neat black mar of ink on the pure white page in his hand. There was something about this word that disturbed him, something distant and old, and worth finding in the stacks.

Soldats.

* * *

Spacious, sterile white. Nothing but that blinding and constricting colour all around, and that stale medicinal smell in the air. Soon, that bleached appearance and scent faded, and was replaced with something not so unnervingly bland. From out of the institution's halls into another room, one quite spacious and somewhat a little more vibrant.

Nancy looked around, still quite put off by the room's appearance. One corner was padded, floors and walls alike, and that frightened her a bit every time they came in here.

"Yomiko-chan? Why are we here again?"

The Paper gave her friend a reassuring smile. "Nancy-chan! In all your time here at the hospital, you haven't been to the recreation centre?"

"Ano..." Nancy meekly replied, her fingers fiddling around, knotting and untwisting together. "I-I haven't been here often. I've always spent my time outside, and with you..." She blushed, quite abashed. "Until now."

Yomiko continued to smile. "Well, then this is another place for us to spend time in, ne?"

"Ah... Hai!"

"Let's play, hmm?"

Nancy ran into the spacious room, and gleefully executed a perfect cartwheel on the matted floor.

The Paper couldn't help but smile even more widely at the sight. Though she would have preferred another quiet afternoon of reading and sitting out on the bench, any time spent with Nancy was worth recovering any ground. Nancy-san's skills were still latent within her. The physical training ahead would be quite easy in reacquainting her with the basics... but as for the memory department, she prayed that her former partner would soon remember. It would be quite awkward to have her prepared as an agent without knowing any reason why she was involved in such a program.

"Yomiko-chan! Why don't you join me?"

With a curt nod, she kicked off her slippers and shrugged off her trench coat.

Yomiko readied herself and took a running start towards the mats. Quickly springing into the air, she executed a frontward flip.

Turning... turning... Nancy-san before her, the floor rushing up to meet her and-

"Oof!"

Nancy winced at the tangled pile that was Yomiko.

"Ano... maybe you should sit this one out."

* * *

There was nothing but the dismal radioactive green and the dank shadows formed from the endless array of pipes and gaskets that composed the current surroundings. High feminine sounds of exertion echoed through the spacious and yet constrictive space, synchronized with the shadow play of two people.

Two shapely figures were sparring intensely, one armed with a roll of paper ribbon and the other with a short baton. It didn't seem fair, considering the entire baton was small enough to be enclosed in her hand.

But whenever the paper would strike down upon her opponent, she would counter by holding up her baton in a defensive sword-like position, blocking the ribbon's path. A low pulse and a ripple in the surrounding air parried with the paper rapier, showing that the simple baton wasn't so useless.

"You are I-jin, The Paper! What is your purpose?" She pushed hard, sending her opponent reeling back.

"My purpose is to bring about perfection! Hah!" The copied Paper continued her assault with her sword.

"What of your previous life?" And her opponent continued to counter effortlessly.

"It was a foolish one. I helped to defend a world that was not great..."

"Why is that? Yah!"

The two women clashed weapons with great force that pushed them back, sending them to opposite sides of the area.

Paper Copy regarded her sparring partner and thought of her next move, as well as her answer.

Her blue eyes traced over the feminine form on the other side of the room. The baton in her hand, it was no more than a microphone, looking like one of those old radio types. Her eyes worked around, scanning her clothing. A strange hybrid of some dirndl skirt and a kimono, sans sleeves. A long robe made up for the sleeves, imitating the long flowing ones of a kimono. Her face was delicate and radiated Oriental beauty, and her hair done up in a slight pompadour, held in place by the headband of her headset.

Colour wasn't important, the ubiquitous shadows and green glow only drowned them out.

"There is too much idleness and idiocy. The world no longer loves books and would rather have the data in their hands go straight to their heads with television and computers... Instead of reading books, instead of working to obtain such knowledge and etch it into their minds."

She smirked. "You speak ill of technology... It holds so much more than a single page ever will."

"Such a thing is artificial! It isn't real, only an illusion that gives cheap gratification! It's nothing compared to the majesty and sophistication of books, those which exercise the mind and the imagination. They are real, and they have revolutionized the world far longer than such _technology_ ever has."

The two slowly circled each other, waiting for an opening of attack.

"You are right, The Paper. Books are better than technology." She paused again, another snide smile playing on her lips. "A book does a better job of holding up an uneven table than a laptop."

The copy clenched her fist, letting the ribbon in it go lax. She studied the arrogant expression on her opponent's face, sensing that her guard was down. With blinding speed, she lashed the ribbon out like a whip. With a flick of her wrist, the ribbon reared up like a snake then struck forth, wrapping around her opponent's wrist. The Paper Copy pulled back, sending the mike clattering to the ground. With another jerk, she sent her opponent to her knees.

Satisfied with winning this round, The Paper Copy uncoiled the ribbon and let it wind back up into a neat roll in her hand.

Dusting herself off and picking up her fallen weapon, she got back on her feet and walked towards The Paper Copy. She held her hand out, to which The Copy accepted for a shake.

When they released hands, her opponent licked the blood that was starting to flow from the small, slim wound on her arm. She gave her a grim smile.

"You gave me a very enlightening session today, The Paper... or shall I call you Paper Cut now? Either one, I thank you."

"Paper Cut will do for me now." The clone bowed. "You're very welcome, Tokyo Rose."

* * *

Love. Lust. Hatred. Ambition. Pride. Guilt. Pain. Love.

All those things were streaming through her mind, coursing through her veins. A volatile cocktail of emotions that made her body writhe between the sheets and a cold, clammy sweat break on her skin.

She wanted out. It was too much. More and more too much for her. She was drowning in it all. Building up from each night of her recovery and meeting with Yomiko. It came at her, faster and faster, hitting her harder and harder. Like she was being smothered, suffocating from these emotions while a sledgehammer of images and memories were driving themselves into her brain, into her mind, into her heart. Things she knew and didn't know were wrapping themselves around her, trying to get in.

"Yomiko!" Nancy cried out as she bolted upright in her bed.

She sat there, panting, her eyes darting around in the dark. The blur of darkness all around her, but only the faint glow coming from her body. She could feel the slight tingling from those areas of her body which the light emanated from.

Nancy looked closer, to see her sheets once again halfway through her body. The matter of her legs and nightclothes once again weaved together with the thin blanket she covered herself with. She reached to pull the thing off her, but her hand merely passed through the material.

She stared at her errant hand. She closed it and opened it. It felt solid...

Nancy Makuhari. Mata Hari. Ikkyu. I-jin. DIET. The Paper. Yomiko. Words, people, organizations, concepts were running in a haze about her brain as she stared at the phenomenon her body was creating.

Sight was registering itself at the foremost, and the strange thoughts ran in the background of her mind. Strangely, sight and thought were connecting, sparking off each other, giving her faint comprehension of this... this thing... this phase.

Phasing.

It was only the first time she experienced it, and yet it felt like she had done this many times before, that it should be nothing to her now. It was so new, and so old, to her.

What was this? What was she doing? What were these things that were hidden away in her head?

She was beginning to feel new. No, more like she was growing, growing inside.

Every thought ended in Yomiko-chan. Tomorrow, maybe tomorrow, she might provide some answers.

* * *

As Yomiko entered the hospital's rec centre, she felt a rush of air and saw a flesh-toned and black blur whiz by her. Dropping her grip on her travois, she waved happily in time to see Nancy finish her series of flips, which she executed with near blinding speed.

The amnesiac was clad in a curve hugging black leotard, reminding any observer of her former uniform. She nodded shyly at her friend and prepped herself for another routine.

The Paper felt a slight tap on her shoulder and turned around to find her superior, Joker.

"Joker-san! Ano... what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see what kind of progress you've been making," the older man informed her.

"It's barely been a couple of weeks, Joker-san... please be patient."

"Yomiko, I do not want to put you on a schedule, but we must be on our toes and at the ready. The I-jin could be mobilizing at this very moment... It, well, it could involve the kikou books..."

"But all the kikou books were recovered... along with _The Immortal Beloved_..." She gave an embarrassed blush at the mention of the book.

Joker suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, and instead ran a hand through his hair, a mannerism that he developed in his exasperation and nervousness. He could keep a fully neutral and unreadable poker face, but that habit always betrayed him. "It's been reconstructed and rebound. We made sure to gather every page. And I do mean every. You may read the rest of it as soon as this is all over."

With that mention, Yomiko's face lit up.

"There is another 'but' to all of this. The kikou books are part of a completely different plan than what we originally thought. At first, the journals could have been used to track down where the copies of _T__he Immortal Beloved_ were and find out how to piece together Beethoven's suicide symphony. But why hold onto them still after they were able to retrieve the book? Maybe they were used to weed out more great minds for the I-jin to clone, but there isn't enough sufficient information in those books; they're merely traveler's journals."

"Joker-san, what are you getting at?"

"Those journals, The Paper. They could lead the I-jin to something greater in their quest for their vision of utopia. We're unsure of what, or rather, where it is the journals will lead them. All the researchers at DIET are doing their best to analyze every bit of information we have." He sighed, having to get to business. "I'm afraid that if Miss Deep isn't recovered, Mr. Gentleman may not be able to obtain her pardon; we may have to seek outside help."

"Ie, Joker-san. Don't worry, I'll do my best to take care of things before the I-jin strike."

"I trust you to, The Paper." With that statement of motivation rather than reassurance, Joker turned to leave the area.

Yomiko glanced behind her, to see Nancy unsurely walking towards her and the now retreating Joker. She clapped her hands in delight and complimented her growing skills.

"Nancy-chan! You're doing so well! You've been practicing while I've been away, haven't you?"

"Ah... hai. I have been practicing quite hard... But I don't know if I want to continue."

"Eh? Why is that Nancy-chan?"

The young woman looked at Yomiko, regarding her, and then looked away. "I-I've been having some terrible dreams lately."

"Dreams? What do you dream about?"

"I dream of disturbing things... I dream of this green light, and, it just feels like it's full of evil. And there's a man, who comes and promises to love me, but doesn't mean it. But then I dream of happy things, like flying, with you..." Nancy paused to glance back and blush, but then turned her head again. "Usually I wake up, and I can't remember everything, I think... they're just bits and pieces. It's so much of a big blur..." Her head lowered, as did her voice. "Once... I woke up, and found... I found my sheets halfway through me. It... It was like they were in and out of my body! At the same time!"

Yomiko couldn't contain herself from the flutter of joy she felt inside. She was beginning to get her Nancy-san back. Not that she didn't love the sweet amnesiac girl, it was just that there were too many memories attached to her to forget what she felt for the former Mata Hari. Blushing, she touched her glasses¹, a mannerism considering how special they were to her.

"Yomiko-chan? Wh-what do you think? Please don't tell me that I'm crazy; I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to."

"I don't think that... Ah... What I mean to say is..." She paused and breathed deeply, gathering her words. "You're not crazy, Nancy. I think you're just remembering who you are. I can't pretend that I know what it is you'll be remembering. The things you might recover will be frightening, and they might be too much to take at times, but no matter what, know that I'll be with you every step of the way."

A look of confusion seemed to pass over Nancy's face for a moment, but then her features smoothed themselves over again as a glimmer of understanding lit up from her eyes. She reached out and clasped her friend's hands, and on impulse, she leaned close to peck a kiss on Yomiko's cheek. "Arigatou, Yomiko-chan." She smiled brightly and then returned to practicing her gymnastics and acrobatics.

Blushing and smiling as well, the bibliophile gently rubbed her contacted cheek with one hand while the other touched her glasses again. "Hai... every step of the way."

To be continued...

Author's Notes:  
1 - That is a slight manga reference. It's not important, but just a note on this mannerism I play up. Yomiko is very defensive of who touches her glasses. She cherishes them as a keepsake from her first true love, Donnie Nakajima. For a bit of information, he's like a male Yomiko, save for the fact that he's a little more mature and cognitive of his surroundings. He's a bibliophile and he was also a Paper Master like her. Keep in mind, I said _was_.   
As anyone can tell, this will become a crossover in the next chapter. If anyone has any suggestions or comments/criticism, then feel free express them! Read Or Die is my favourite anime, Noir coming in a close second, and I would like to know if I'm doing a good job.


	3. Chapter 2: Antithesis

Disclaim or Die: Read Or Die (R.O.D) is copyrighted by and the property of Hideyuki Kurata, Akitaro Yamada, Studio Deen/SME, Sony, and currently licensed to Manga Entertainment. Noir is copyrighted by and the property of Ryoe Tsukimura, Bee Train, Victor Entertainment, Inc. and currently licensed to ADV Films.

**Ripped From the Pages  
Chapter 2 - Antithesis**

From the day Nancy Makuhari had started her relationship with Yomiko Readman, the more ease she felt in the quest of finding her past self.

Ever since she had woken up and found herself in the hospital, with no memory, it was like there was a heavy curtain drawn over her most of her mind. And she had to pull it with a rope- no, a string. The only thing she had to do to recover herself was to open a heavy veil with a fragile thread.

It was such a delicate link within herself.

A small part of herself tried to grasp at that thread, but never get a hold on it.

When she had met Yomiko, she had that thread in her grasp and all she could do was pull to open the curtain, but even then, the effort to do so was so difficult. Every night, inside herself, she would pull and pull, only to have her efforts vanish as soon as she woke up.

All she could hold on to were the glimpses past the sparsely parted curtain.

She felt that it wouldn't be easy. She might not like what she saw on the other side. It wouldn't matter anyway, not at all. But she hoped that she'd have Yomiko beside her, and that the bookish girl would stay by her no matter what, just like before.

What was "just like before"? What was before? Many years of friendship, or a few days acquaintance?

It felt like both... so much confusion going on in her.

Annoyed, or to at least distract herself, Nancy pinched at the black leotard she took to wearing every time she was to begin training. Training for a couple of weeks on end for what, she didn't know, but the prospect of such a thing immediately made her focus herself with excitement.

It was so strange; she had a natural finesse when it came to gymnastics, with amazing flexibility and agility that brought out her fancy. Well, she wanted to bring out her fancy when she had such aerodynamic grace, but lately, something in her pushed it all aside. Extreme concentration for what was ahead was needed, and no frivolous ideas would get in the way. Cartwheel in a straight line? Done. Try to tumble and spin as much as you can while in the air? Done. Backflip in a straight line from along the edge of the seaside cliff? Done.

Nothing big about dancing on a razor's edge.

She stretched languidly, feeling the dark second skin slide against her, and proceeded to do a few warm ups.

For the first few days, she had fun learning (or was it relearning?) the basics, the techniques. She caught on quick, and within a week, she had stuck to a strict regimen of practice.

Outside of the mats, she didn't feel so much as lighthearted as she was around her friend Yomiko. She was growing more and more serious, yearning to learn more than just gymnastics. Not because she would enjoy doing more than that, but because she felt like she _had_ to do more. And not a "fun" activity, but more of a hard activity, a challenge. She was interested in fighting, and so she asked Yomiko to teach her how to fight.

Of course, the bespectacled girl didn't really seem like the fighting kind; Nancy should've known better. But Yomiko was more than happy to help anyway; she did say that she had a friend who could teach her.

Confidently, she strode out of the changing room into the recreation area. They were indoors again, considering the outside exercise along her and Yomiko's favourite spot was a refreshing respite. The rec centre still had its mats neatly arranged on the floor, but waiting by them were Yomiko and the instructor that was to be expected.

"Nancy! I want you to meet-"

"Drake Anderson," the man beside her interrupted, making his own introduction.

Nancy looked him over. He was a tall man, quite more than a head taller than Yomiko. He had a wide, very muscular physique; it made him look quite bulky and burly, especially in his limbs and torso. A serious expression was etched into his features, made clear by his tied back blonde hair, and the black skullcap that hugged close to his head. He took to wearing a dark sweater and cargo pants, the military type greens of his clothing fitting him quite well.

Yomiko continued to smile, despite his rude interruption. "Yes, Drake-san will be working with you today on hand-to-hand combat!"

The man still kept a serious look, but his gaze was wary of his student for the day. "And if you survive, I'll be your sparring partner. Now normally, I don't take to hitting girls," commented Drake. His mouth said one thing, but his hands proved otherwise: he balled his hands into fists, tensely cracking his knuckles.

Yomiko nervously chuckled. "Ah... you'll make an exception for Nancy-san, yes?"

The burly blonde man shot Yomiko a gruff look and grunted. "Hmph."

"I... ah... take that as a no?"

Drake sighed. "Let's get started."

* * *

A brooding silence was prevalent deep within the glowing green bowels of the hidden I-jin facility. Deep in its core, the sickening glow of green was more invasive, more dully blinding. The almost silent hisses of escaping steam emanated from the ubiquitous pipes. Such an old-fashioned energy system was now utilized to top efficiency, running with a little boost from some nuclear power.

So much to power... especially the revival tanks.

The Tokyo Rose and The Paper Cut walked down one of the narrow aisles that separated the endless rows of metal and glass cylinders, artificial wombs ready to bring forth more power. They browsed their fellow visionaries, the many great minds and bodies who were fateful enough to have their names etched into the world's history.

The Oriental beauty turned to her sparring partner, smiling with good news. "Paper Cut, I know that there is someone you must be excited to meet... Your chances of being paired up again are quite good. You worked so well before, why not now, and for the I-jin?"

She stopped and turned to her partner, her lips caught in an almost gasp. "You can't happen to say..."

"Look up, she's here."

And there was the Mata Hari, floating submerged in the glowing green tinged liquid.

A delicately pale hand touched the glass, trying to caress the face on the other side. Her hand stopped at her cheek, settling to affectionately cup Mata Hari's face. Then she flattened her palm and spread her fingers, sliding it ruefully across the glass, as if trying to wipe the image of the face from her mind.

"She will be of no use to us," Paper Cut rasped.

"But-"

"I said the Mata Hari will be of no use to us," she repeated through her clenched jaw.

"Why is that, Yomiko?"

"Don't say that name! She... she is an abomination to the I-jin! She betrayed us once, she will betray us again, no matter how many million different Mata Hari's you create. She is an outright failure, and is an aberration... a blight on our perfect world."

"What makes her so?" inquired Tokyo Rose.

"Because... because! The Mata Hari gave up greatness. She gave up on our ideals becoming reality. She chose to leave the world in its despicable state..." Paper Cut spat venomously.

Tokyo Rose looked at her sparring partner, brooding against the cylinder glass, bathed in the absinthe light. She understood, as all the I-jin knew and understood the impatience and weariness they all shared. "I understand. I am I-jin because the world is wrought with injustice, and I seek to correct it. The masses scatter about like mindless insects; parasites, really. A den of filthy parasites that only follow a constant buzz, blindly following it, no matter what it says. They're very stupid animals, the rest of them, quick to relentlessly hound and persecute because they're directed by that misleading chatter that always lingers in their ears. They are insensitive to orphans, not seeing that they are still lost and innocent children, but rather see that they are only the children of their enemies."

She sighed, her eyes gazing far off and inwards, reflecting on the wrongs of her past life.º The wrongs committed against her and the propaganda that damned her from receiving any fair treatment or trial. Her friends and people who knew the truth had been turned against her, her efforts in the fight for the Allied side and to bring comfort to those stranded and imprisoned as she was were ignored and distorted.

"The only way to correct such injustices and lies is with the truth. To be true and show humanity how flawed it is and correct it. We are the chosen ones, we are the truth. Shin," Tokyo Rose breathed out the Japanese word for truth. "In order for them to do realize it, we must make sacrifices. Some, even all, must die."

The Paper Cut brooded on the last word.

"Shinde."¹

* * *

The very air was punctuated with the thudding of flesh landing on leather and stuffing. Two spectators watched the student's progress as she practiced on the punching bag, but neither of them was evaluating her. Both of them felt like they were racing the clock, for some unspecific reason, all they knew was that they had to be ready before their enemy.

Yomiko turned slightly to her back-up, gently placing a hand on his crossed arms. "Drake-san... I hope you-"

He quickly held up a hand to silence her. "I've been debriefed and classified. You can trust me on this. Though, I don't know why I should help you, or her, for that matter. She's I-jin."

"She was I-jin, Drake-san, was."

"You are too trusting, Yomiko."

"But Joker-san and Mr. Gentleman... They're supporting me on this! They do want her to remember; it means that they must believe that Nancy-san can help us."

Drake looked over at the smaller, mousy woman and snorted. "I'm surrounded by bad luck then. Those pompous, arrogant..."

"Don't speak like that. You can trust her to help us. She'll remember and she'll join us, just like before!"

"Yomiko, I'd be lying if I said that I haven't been soured towards that woman. I'm skeptical towards the wisdom of keeping her around; she might revert, she might not. All I can say is that it will be very difficult for all of us, even if the world is at stake. But then again, isn't this why we joined Special Ops?"

The Paper blinked at him, unsure of what to say.

He stared intently at her, his voice serious. "You are, surprisingly, the Library's top agent. I trust your judgment, The Paper. If you believe that Makuhari here won't disappoint us, I'll go along with it. I'm willing to help you in this... though I think I'm going to regret my words." His corner of his lip curled up for a mischievous smirk.

Yomiko took a sharp intake of breath, ready to say something back.

"But don't convince me otherwise yet," Drake roughly interrupted.

Nancy was now approaching them, meaning that it was time for some one-on-one field practice. "I'm ready," she announced to the two of them.

"I was wondering when you'd finish freshening up," Drake replied sarcastically as he accompanied her to their specified area.

They were to spar on the mats.

Both of them stood in place, taking a ready stance.

After circling each other for a while, Drake lunged forth at the lithe woman.

Quickly, Nancy ducked under his reach and tried to trip him.

He may have been big, but he was quick. Nancy could use his size against him, but she needed to hang in a little more before she could take advantage of any opening he presented.

Yomiko watched intently as her fellow agents sparred against each other. Her thoughts dwelled on Nancy's progress in fighting.

They had started with the basics of some hand-to-hand combat. Punches, kicks, blocks, trips... She was an adept learner, frighteningly so. Whereas Yomiko was able to teach her a few non-lethal moves, she picked up on the knowledge of a few final finishers as well.

The woman was naturally cunning, if her gymnastics were to prove anything. Though she had grown more serious lately, it seemed more of her cleverness shone through, with a quick wit and humour displaying itself when she was more playful with Yomiko. She was beginning to resemble the woman that she once was when she was with Yomiko.

Drake lunged forward at Nancy again, but she ducked and rolled past his legs. She didn't even notice that, as if on instinct, she rolled through his legs. Springing back up, she stood behind him.

The former Mata Hari saw his back to her and her hand shot out, intending to push him over. But her hand passed through him. There was the sickening squish of her arm and hand hitting against his organs.

A grunt, the strained expel of breath that came from him meant that one of those organs was his lungs, literally knocking the wind out of him.

She blinked. An image flashed behind her eyelids, of someone's hand doing the same thing...

_A black glove had burst through her chest, sending blood flying in front of her eyes accompanied by the sharp pain and difficulty to breath. She had collapsed forward, knowing she had been betrayed..._

"No!" she cried as Drake lurched forward onto the mat.

She looked at her hand, still raised and put forward, dripping with blood. His blood. She continued to stare, oblivious to Yomiko's screaming.

It was fortunate they were in a hospital, for immediately, nurses and paramedics burst through the door, at the ready as soon as they heard the commotion. DIET was very particular to hire such a quick and hop-to staff in all their departments.

Nancy wasn't in for the fight of her life against the burly man she just met a scant few days ago, but she didn't mean to do that to him... she didn't even know how she could do such a thing as that!

"Drake-san! Drake-san!" cried Yomiko again and again. She ran to her back-up muscle's side, with him as the paramedics hoisted him on up to the wheeled gurney. Holding onto a meaty arm, The Paper hovered over him in concern. "Drake-san! Please, please, I'm sorry... Gomen, gomen ne!"

"You... are... terrible luck..." muttered Drake as he was strapped in securely. He managed to give off a shadow of a smirk as they carted him off.

Yomiko bowed her head, the very brunt of the scene rushing at her. Drake was hurt just so that Nancy could make another step in recovery... Surely the man would heal and bounce back, good as new, but the words he said earlier... She was even more determined to make sure that he didn't truly regret those words.

She looked back at Nancy, who had crumpled to the floor, still staring at her hand and the blood dripping from it. The woman was frozen, mortified at what she had just done. Something within her was remembering, as her lips moved slowly.

"I did this... and yet, I didn't... There were two of me. Two... But there's only one Nancy-san in this world..." she softly quoted.

Yomiko was beginning to feel her own regret for the events she had put into motion. She took off her trench coat and gently approached the confused woman, draping it over her shoulders. Helping Nancy to her feet, she guided her outside, to a place that she felt could calm her. Yomiko took out a paper napkin and gingerly held her friend's hand to wipe the blood off.

"Nancy-chan... let's go outside and sit on our bench. I have to talk to you about something..."

* * *

"So you say that Miss Makuhari was involved while The Paper supervised. Tell me what happened." A long pause ensued, hanging over the office. "So he sustained only minor injuries then? You can contain the internal bleeding; that's good to know. Yes, yes. Thank you. Update me on Mr. Anderson's condition as it progresses. We need him in tip-top condition. Good bye."

With that, he put aside his cellular rotary phone.

The Joker sighed and rubbed his fingers against his temples. He had immediately received word from the hospice about Drake's condition as well as the incident concerning Miss Deep. She would have to temper her powers... Maybe The Paper could apply the lessons she learned from her mentor to her new charge.

There was no doubt that the poor girl was torturing herself over all this.

This was an interesting development indeed. An unfortunate one, but the blonde man seriously hoped that it would immediately be balanced out by Miss Deep's recruitment into the Royal Library's Special Ops. He would have to send word to Mr. Gentleman so that he could push forward her pardon to make such recruitment possible. She would be a very useful agent as her past record would prove, and any ill will would be purged if she proved herself with this new chapter.

This new one would only become all the more interesting...

But, there were more pressing matters at hand. His attention returned itself to the papers and photocopies that were before him.

Ever since the mention of Soldats several days ago, their resources were mobilized towards finding the connection between that word and the I-jin. All that they had learned was the word belonged to an underground crime syndicate based in Europe; Mr. Gentleman conferred that syndicate was a trifling word for Soldats, as he added that Soldats was the world. Soldats originated from an obscure ancient society in medieval France around the turn of the first millennium; the only remote occurrence related to them in the world today was the most obscure and savage razing of a feudal based village near the border of Spain and France.

"The ten-hundreds, the eleven hundreds..." He pondered on that time. It was the Dark Ages, and though the Royal Library was vast in its resources, many things pertaining to such a time were limited. His thoughts crossed over from one to another, trying to recollect all the manuscripts in their possession. Something jolted him, and Joker turned to his desk dispatch.

"Elias, have you found _Langon's Manuscript_?"

"I'm one step ahead of you, Joker. We're looking at it right now."

The Joker thought some more about the text he had just named. "I thought that there were no more copies of _Langon's Manuscript_; that the last one was lost in a fire somewhere in Austria."²

"We thought so too until The Paper's first mission."

A reminiscent smile pulled at the man's lips. "Ah, yes. My addled and overworked mind must be slipping. I remember The Bibliomaniac. We raided Marihara Kazumi's private library when it was over; or rather, what was left of it. Red Hot was not merciful."³

"I wouldn't be surprised if The Bibliomaniac hired her to loot it from the private library in Austria. The building was burnt down..."

Joker dismissively waved his hand at the thought. "Well, it's pointless to speculate on past connections and coincidences, Elias. Can you tell me what you've gotten so far on the manuscript?"

"It's a translation of a much older text; the original text is definitely from the eleventh or twelfth century. It seems to have outlined Soldat's manifesto, as well as something called Noir."

His interest was piqued. "Noir, you say?"

"Sir?"

He stroked his chin pensively, his brows knitted in recollection. "Noir is an ancient name, and it belongs solely to the underworld. I have heard rumours about Noir resurfacing in the world, but that's a matter that I believed only concerned such unsavoury types. Nothing that the Royal Library would well associate with," The Joker said in his cool, collected English manner. "Well, I believe that one secretive faction should be able to look over shoulders and monitor another, don't you? Look into any recent occurrences that may involve Soldats and this Noir."

"Yes, sir!"

The Joker smiled inwardly. There would be more mobilization, rushing to meet the I-jin threat. The sources were ready, the materiel were ready, but were their main warriors ready? As a man that always trusted in the ability of calculated planning and a little bit of luck, he leaned back and felt that now he would have to suspend his disbelief and trust Fate.

* * *

It was time to draw back the curtain again, to take hold of that fine thread and unravel that curtain of her own clouded subconscious. Every pull of the thread became a strong tug that yielded wider glimpses, longer glances into what was held back. She couldn't wake up, not that she wanted to; the sedatives circulating in her system made sure of that.

Her mind was drifting back to that fanciful partial explanation that Yomiko had given her, right before the nurses and orderlies came to find them outside, on that bench overlooking the sea. They didn't force a needle into her; rather, she simply requested it, so as not to hurt anyone.

She had phased. Right through him.

But how she could commit an act so gruesome as if it were reflex... it baffled her. It scared her. And yet, part of her wasn't scared. A small piece of her embraced the brutality... but her conscience immediately stamped out that savage glimmer.

It was a matinee in her mind's eye, playing fragments of memories of an all too short existence. Too short, but fully lived. These were things she couldn't comprehend, for they moved too fast, were too outrageous for any one sane person to believe. Was she driven mad in her former life?

No, her reactions, her feelings towards such things, the demeanour she displayed said otherwise. From flying a paper airplane through New York to outrunning India's Ganges River to even the metallic mega fortress; cool and calm under fire, barely a hint of bewilderment, like it was business as usual. It wasn't a tall tale from some cheap storybook.

Nancy played these images of memories again and again, pieced together like some surreal action movie, trying to process all of this. Gaining some footing on finding the truth. It wasn't whole, but it was mostly there, blatantly staring her in the face, but she couldn't understand it all.

Like a clearing in her thoughts, the image of Yomiko alone came to her mind's eye... And the storm inside her mind calmed, and everything seemed to be held together with her. Though things still didn't make sense to Nancy, she felt that with Yomiko, they just did.

What was it that she felt for her friend? All that she knew up until now was that she had deep friendship with her... but with these memories surfacing, she felt a glimmer of something more, a love not fully formed.

_"I want to be loved, yesterday and today... I don't know how many times I've admired you... You, my life, keep on loving me..."_

Those words struck at her heart, pulling at those emotions, almost forming them.

Emotions that made her want to open her eyes wide and stare into Yomiko's face with amazement.

Her consciousness began pushing past the drug-induced haze, as her eyelids struggled to lift themselves. How could she be wrenched back into this world? She wanted to retreat into the darkness and try to piece together that unfinished puzzle in her mind, but as her sight came into focus, she thought it better that she stay awake.

Hovering by her bedside was a ragged Yomiko. The bookworm's hair was a mess, with clumps of it tangled together and sticking out at the top of her head. Concern and heavy fatigue were evident all over her face, but the brightness in her eyes, magnified by those ridiculous glasses, didn't fade at all. The sterile white ceiling and bright lighting behind her almost made her seem like an angel - her clumsy, daffy guardian angel.

A sense of déjà vu passed between the two of them; that they were in a room just like this, placed in the same positions, in the same scenario.

Yomiko's relieved smile and building high sigh were so familiar.

With the way the sunset filtered inside the tiny square and sterile room, it reminded Yomiko of that tiny hospice in India, where Miss Deep recovered from that nasty bout with Genjo Sanzo and magic bo staff.

She focused her sky blue eyes intently onto that pair of sunset pink ones. "You were sleeping for two days straight. You had me so worried, Nancy-sa... er, Nancy-chan..." The Paper blushed at the trip up in her words. She almost expected to greet the same woman she knew in that vivid memory.

"Call me the first one..." the navy bluenette requested wearily.

Yomiko wanted to let the very name and honourific jump out of her mouth, yelling it again and again. She was recovering more and more already! But it was so hard to tell to what extent at this point, she yearned for it to happen fully and instantaneously, to make things the way they were before. But her life wasn't a story with convenient plot twists, it was complicated, and she forcibly reminded herself that this was an uphill battle for the two of them.

"Nancy-san!"

At that name, those pink eyes stared back into those blue ones, recognition sparked within them. A blaze of subdued bewilderment and confusion was projected back at her, those emotions screaming out how lost she was on her search for her sense of self. She was one of two, that much she knew already... how much more did she recover in the time she was asleep?

"Yomiko... tell me a story," Nancy asked, her voice small as a child's, just like on the very day they met again.

The Paper knew what story it was she would have to tell. She wasn't finished explaining everything to Nancy while they were at their bench, but she was given plenty of time to think it over, readily rehearsing her words during her bedside vigil. Any fatigue that Yomiko felt was washed away as she fondly reminisced and recounted everything as vividly as she could to her friend. She did her best to retell the memories enough so that both of them could relive it through her words, to create a story that weaved a tangible and sensual experience, like all of her favourite books did.

Nancy listened, she listened long and quite hard, while instantaneously any and every scrap of her memory was being called up like catalogue cards and cross-referenced to the things Yomiko said. She wanted to sit up and talk to her about this recollection, but she struggled against something heavy on her chest and arms. With a resigned gasp, she plopped back down, looking up at Yomiko, whose face held renewed concern.

She looked down, to her hands and chest to see heavy straps restraining her where she lay.

"That's right... This is for my own good. Drake... I killed him..." Her head rolled away, averting her gaze, anguish washing anew over her.

"No! You didn't do such a thing! He's fine... he's fine... Really, he is..." Yomiko's tender hand reached out, resting over hers, fingers slipping around and clasping gently. "Drake-san is feeling better. He's very strong, you know; it's because he has someone to hold onto, he has his daughter Maggie to keep living for."

Nancy continued to stare out the window, at the sun that was just threatening to sink below the horizon. "He's very lucky then."

"I think that you need someone to live for. Let me be that person... please?" She gave Nancy's hand a soft squeeze.

"Do you still want to be? Even after all you know about me? You seem to know more about me than I do at the moment."

"Of course I do! I want to, no matter what. I want to help you remember everything about yourself! I don't care if it's a dark and ugly past. I didn't care about that... only you. I..." She blushed deeply. "I care for you... a lot."

Nancy slowly turned her head back, cautiously looking at her partner. She could only see the truth in what she was saying in those eyes. She trusted that woman, the one who showed her there was more to the empty love she knew of. She felt flush, her cheeks slightly reddened.

"I care for you too... But, I can't go back to that woman you knew, the one you loved. I'm not the same now."

"No, you're not..." Her expression darkened to that of yearning for a moment, quickly replaced by an optimistic smile. "But no one is ever the same person for too long."

"You're right." A shadow of a smile was mirrored on the Mata Hari's face. "What if I wanted to become partly that same person then?"

"Nancy-san?"

A long pause settled between the two of them, both of their minds skimming over the segue that had been given to Nancy at the bench before this moment. Why they were doing all of this training, what connection it had to her past, then beginning to retell her past. Up until their interruption by the hospice staff.

The blue haired woman's lips moved slowly, letting the effect of what she was to say work itself into herself and Yomiko.

"Ie... call me, Miss Deep..."

The Paper was overjoyed at what she was hearing. Realistically, she couldn't have the perfect replica of the Nancy she knew; to create a conveniently refreshed version would make her just as worse as the I-jin. A girl could dream, and though it was nice to dream, she remembered a conversation she shared with the woman long ago.

_"In real life, love takes a different course than those books you read... Which do you prefer? Real love with all its complications, or a perfect storybook romance?"_

The Paper smiled as she had made her choice then, and renewed her choice now.

"Nancy-san, Miss Deep, rest well and heal up... We're going on our first mission soon."

Those sunset pink eyes blinked. "Already? To where?"

"To Paris, France."

* * *

The Parisian skyline was so beautiful, so crisp, so clean. It looked pristine and perfect, but below, one could see that its streets, the little avenues and alleyways that built this beloved city were just as dusty and dirty as any other paved surface. The sidewalks were riddled with cracks and imperfections, much like the inhabitants of the houses that lined such walkways and the residents who traveled along them.

People shuffled idly in the sunlight, paying mind to the day, but not to each other. Save for one girl. Small and lithe. A messy cropped mop of black hair atop her head. A face set with delicately soft and subtly sullen features. She could've been mistaken as a street urchin, but her casual, clean, nondescript clothes kept her from that category.

Her entire being subtly twitched as she heard the far off crumple and drop of paper on pavement. Stopping in her tracks, she leaned down and picked up the non-offensive white litter to dispose of in the nearest trash bin. Her brown eyes darted about, finding no such facility in sight. Murmuring, she pocketed the litter to dispose of at home. Mireille would call her silly for paying mind to trash, but then again, her partner was used to her little notions that held some unseen importance.

She continued to stroll through the streets, reaching the less slum-like planned housing square. Passing by amongst all the almost identical houses, she finally reached the one that was her home with her partner. Climbing up the stairs to reach the top apartment that was theirs, she entered using her key, being quite audible about it so as not to agitate Mireille and to show that she wasn't an intruder.

Mireille didn't need such signals, she rarely did lose her cool and calm demeanour, but it was good to make a change, even if it was seemingly unnecessary. Such small changes in their lifestyle, little adjustments that other people took for granted, such as the casual sudden "turn-click" of a door knob, or the seemingly soft footfalls down a hall.

The girl entered, and looked up to see her partner sitting in her usual spot in front of the pool table that doubled as her desk. She was still seated in her chair, staring in front of the flat screen computer. Without looking up, she spoke.

"Kirika. Welcome back."

"Mireille..." she responded.

She still didn't look up. "Did you get more tea?"

"Ah... no. I went out for a walk, that's all."

"You're getting out more. That's good."

An unsaid thought was left hanging between them. Maybe it was about how that's a good change for Kirika. Indeed, there was a drastic change between the two of them since they tried to walk on a path of light. Nothing that any other person could detect, but something that only the two of them could sense. They did know each other's hearts better than anyone.

The lost undertone in Kirika's voice was gone, giving way to the type of tone and inflection that any was more grounded and assured, something any other girl her age would possess. The sad look in her eyes would never disappear, but it dimmed. The sorrow etched in her face would never leave, but when she kept herself still, she looked more serene than sullen.

Mireille was just as outgoing as she usually was, but she was rarely so paranoid of the people she met. One could say her overly cautious and business-like demeanour had mellowed; she wasn't forming immediate suspicions of new people she met. Everyday occurrences didn't always come under suspicion as set-ups of Soldats, and if they were, they didn't so much as bother her. She was intent on proving Soldats wrong.

They would always be Noir.

And though they no longer felt the cold and gripping thrill of executing a hit, that was a sacrifice they would have to deal with in order to passively defy Soldats. But they were still lost when it came to their future, together. There would have to be an adjustment to the life of the mundane, of mingling in the upperworld, where light shone and where there were normal people who sinned daily, but not so deeply as those in the Underworld.

The thought had now passed, and Kirika spoke up.

"Would you like me to get some tea?"

"No, we'll make due with what we have now."

The brunette walked over to her blonde partner, still planted at that computer, clicking and staring at the screen. She stood behind her, peering over her shoulder.

"What are you looking at, Mireille?"

"Our account."

"But there's plenty of-"

"We may be set for life, but I wonder how we can put this money to use. We must start making a living instead of sustaining ourselves through these scraps of blood money. We may retire ourselves as Noir in name and profession, though we will always be Noir, but I see no need in keeping any reminders of it. It's a gross and excessive waste."

Kirika could merely nod. She knew what her partner was talking about, but the girl wasn't interested in financials. Speaking of waste, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the ball of crumpled paper.

She leaned over, maneuvering around Mireille in order to drop the ball into the trash bin.

Her sharp eyes kept their gaze on the pure while ball, and her thoughts drifted to her sketchbook. Not of the drawings in her sketchbook, but looking forward to opening the cover to find a canvas of white awaiting her. There was something mesmerizing about a simple page today.

Mireille's lips twitched into a small smile, knowing what was going on. She looked down beside her to see the paper ball perched atop many so similar to it.

"You're not the only one who's fascinated with paper today."

Without looking, the blonde navigated her mouse around, clicking pointedly, but not looking. The hum of the printer started up, and its grating buzz processed another sheet.

Snatching the print-off from its cradle, Mireille flipped it at her partner, who caught it with a deft hand.

Kirika wordlessly read it.

_There are two hands required to read as there are two hands required to kill.  
Noir, please, warmly receive your guests, La Papier et Madame Profondément.  
- The British Royal Library Special Forces_

Nothing was said between them as they felt the pull of the red thread of fate, calling upon Noir once again.

To be continued...

Author's Notes:  
0 - When Tokyo Rose talks about the orphans, it relates to her on-air name of Orphan Ann and refers to the injustice that she suffered in her life. The powers that I bestowed upon this Tokyo Rose are those of sound and radio wave manipulation. The following sites can give you a better understanding of the woman who this character is loosely, and I really mean _loosely_, based on, just like the Mata Hari was for R.O.D  
· Sayonara, "Tokyo Rose": Hello Again, "Orphan Ann"! www . dyarstraights . com / orphan ann / orphanann . html  
· EarthStation1.com: Orphan Ann ("Tokyo Rose") - www . earthstation1 . com / Tokyo Rose . html  
1 - "Shinde" means die. If you remember the scene in the third, and last, episode when Mata Hari (the clone) held up a gun right up to The Paper's face, she says "Shinde." The subtitles at the moment read as "Die." So, I thought I'd bring up again in this little word play of truth and death.  
2 - _Langon's Manuscript_ is mentioned in Noir episode 19 "Both Hands of Soldats"  
3 - This is another slight reference to the Read Or Die manga, the first issue again. Marihara Kazumi was a bibliophile who was obsessed with Yomiko's favourite author, Nenene Sumiregawa. Though he was a bibliophile, he didn't have paper manipulation powers, though he made up for it with his vast fortune. Using his fortune, he bought many many books (among them numerous copies of Sumiregawa's works), constructed a vast library/fortified stronghold, and hired numerous henchmen to do his dirty work. Among the hired henchmen was Red Hot, a girl whose powers were fire manipulation. I'm only using this information as a bit of background to tie the two worlds of R.O.D and Noir together.   
You guys might notice, in general, my usage of switching back and forth the honourifics when it comes to Nancy. By -san, Yomiko slips up and means to address the woman that she knew before the amnesiac; and -chan is to address the Nancy that she knows now. Or as I will allow myself to say, the new Miss Deep. This is just a mannerism, a stylistic tweaking of how Yomiko sees her partner, and wants something more. Heh, I think I'm so clever, but I'm not...


	4. Chapter 3A: Rising Action

Disclaim or Die: Read Or Die (R.O.D) is copyrighted by and the property of Hideyuki Kurata, Akitaro Yamada, Studio Deen/SME, Sony, and currently licensed to Manga Entertainment. Noir is copyrighted by and the property of Ryoe Tsukimura, Bee Train, Victor Entertainment, Inc. and currently licensed to ADV Films.

**Ripped From the Pages  
Chapter 3A - Rising Action**

Kirika and Mireille stopped before entering the designated meeting place, a library with a brilliant stone facade and glittering broad glass windows. With the two of them being a seasoned Parisians, they could pass by sites of their past hits on a daily basis with barely a twinge of nervousness or flash of reminiscence. Though this locale wasn't exactly the site of one of Noir's infamous massacres, this was a place that one of the two frequented in their search for Soldats, the first clue starting with Langon's Manuscript.

Church bells from the cathedral across the street made their morning time announcement. The pair's eyes cast about, looking to see anyone suspiciously loitering outside the stone steps, but no one could catch their eye. Just civilians, students, and tourists were bustling inside and outside in broad daylight. They looked up to find the sky was lightly littered with thin traces of clouds.

Kirika squinted towards the horizon. "The clouds are coming from the southwest," she quietly observed.

It was an open forum, maybe this meeting place was neutral ground; or those who arranged the meeting knew of the fleeting significance this place held in their search, though Kirika's efforts at this library were fruitless.º

Mireille frowned. "We've been given a time and a meeting place, but no way to identify our contacts. I see no point in continuing on from here. I refuse to play into the hands of another secret organization." She closed her eyes and turned away, a little miffed.

The young Japanese girl walked past her, continuing into the library without a word.

The blonde opened them as she felt motion past her. "Hmm?" She sighed in resignation. Kirika's instincts were sharper than hers, but she had enough of being involved with faceless shadow organizations and becoming their pawn.

Cool conditioned air greeted their skin, a change from the warming touch of the sunlight.

The pair looked about, trying to pick out any of the quiet and demure readers as one of their contacts. So far, they only knew that there would be two and that they were from the British Royal Library. One of them had to be a woman, what with the codename given: Madame Profondément.

Mireille turned to her partner. "We should-"

A librarian with a severe purple headed bun walked by, looking sternly at the two.

Talking much more softly this time, Mireille repeated what she was to say. "We should go to the reference section, find anything pertaining to the British Library, and see if our contacts are there."

Nodding minutely, Kirika agreed, and the two of them made their way into the darkened narrow corridors of bookshelves.

The serious bun headed librarian watched the two out of the corner of her eye and followed them discreetly into the stacks, making sure to pass through the walls of wood and books in her way.

Miss Deep stopped as she found her partner, The Paper, who was gasping in ecstasy as she was caught between aged volumes, wondering which one she should while the time away with.

"Ah... oh my... They're all so lovely!" she tittered childishly. "I don't know which one I should re-" A tap on the shoulder interrupted her. "Oh, Nancy-san, what are you doing here?"

"I think Noir is here."

"What makes you say that?"

"No one has gone near the books pertaining to the British library all day. Besides, I overheard them." She smiled cheekily.

Yomiko looked nervously at her partner, and then back at the books, trying to make a decision. Resigned, she took hold of her travois and followed after Miss Deep as she phased ahead of her, in and out of the sectionals.

As the two were to round the corner, they stopped and peered aside. The blonde and brunette were idly looking up and down the shelves, only a few paces away from each other.

Mireille stared at the varying heights of book spines that were lined up before her, her eyes roaming up and down the line up of leather bound texts and tomes. From the way her vision traced them, they looked like the fluctuations of a pulse. She smiled at herself, realizing that it was a very funny observation, since books themselves were the very lifeline of a library.

"Yoisho," came the soft sound of exertion from Kirika.

The Corsican's greenish blue eyes darted quickly to her side, and her hand slipped into her purse, ready to pull out her Walther P99. Though Noir was now out of commission, that didn't mean they were safe; the two still habitually carried their trademark pistols with them, everywhere they went. She relaxed her hold on the gun as she saw that the noise was made because she had bumped into someone. Namely, that strict librarian that shushed her moments ago.

Both of them were reaching for a book, but the taller woman had the advantage and promptly pulled down the text, only to hand it to the girl. Behind her thin spectacles, the librarian narrowed her eyes slightly and looked them over.

"Je supposé c'ést Noir," the librarian said simply in French. Her tone was even, but her pronunciations were slightly peppered with an accent.

Her hold on her gun tightened again, but only momentarily, letting her hand slip back out of her purse. "Yes," she answered cautiously in English.

Kirika blinked, still looking up the woman who had identified herself as their contact. "Madame Profondément."

"Call me Miss Deep. I assumed that you two would be comfortable in speaking only French."

"I guess you assumed wrong," Mireille smartly replied.

"Miss Deep, where is the second contact, The Paper?"

Miss Deep looked behind her. There was no one there. A few tense moments passed, but their ears happened to catch the squeaking of tiny wheels approaching them.

"That would be her."

To Noir's surprise, a raven-haired woman with two braided forelocks and ridiculously large horn-rimmed glasses shuffled towards them, dragging a brief case on a travois behind her. Bundled up in her tan and brown trench coat, she smiled widely at them, cradling her latest find in her arm. She didn't seem like a professional of any sort.

"Gomen ne, Na- ah, Miss Deep, but I just passed by this collection that the library had of Schopenhauer's works, and, you see, I just had to read it! I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but you must understand..." She drifted off as her eyes darted to the pair of maidens that they were to meet. She bowed to them politely and extended her hand. "Hello, I'm Yomiko, Yomiko Readman!"

The two blinked at the newcomer. This girl was definitely not a professional.

Yomiko continued to look at them expectantly. Her hand twitched a little, waiting for a handshake.

Kirika tentatively put her hand in the older woman's, giving it a curt shake. "Kirika Yuumura," she said with a polite smile of her own.

"Fate has decided to play one big practical joke on us," sighed Mireille. She crossed her arms, regarding the two ladies. "I have to ask, why did you choose this of all places? A library?" She narrowed her eyes skeptically, questioning the significance of the chosen point.

The bespectacled woman blinked. "Umm... well, you see, I really liked this building... And I haven't really been to Paris often, and I had a little bit of an experience at the national library. I got a little carried away there once, before..." She poked her two index fingers together, looking down sheepishly. "Um, let's just say I'm not allowed back in there for a while."

Paying no mind to that comment, Miss Deep gestured to Yomiko. Nodding in response, The Paper bent over her travois, and opened up the suitcase loaded on it, taking out a couple of file folders and handing it to Miss Deep, who in turn gave them to Noir.

"Our superiors, Joker and Gentleman, have provided us with all the necessary information to brief you two. The things you will read about in the reports may seem shocking, but I assure you, they are true."

The library agents stood in silence, waiting for the two to finish reading through the portfolios, filling the two in on why they needed their help.

Mireille cocked an eyebrow after skimming through some pages. "Superpowers? The I-jin?"

"Cloning? Beethoven's suicide symphony?" Kirika chorused behind her.

"Oh my, they weren't even halfway through the reports!" Yomiko mused quietly.

"We've been through much before: Soldats, Le Grand Retour, The Manor, but the things written here... They push the very limits of my belief!" the blonde protested sharply.

Miss Deep cleared her throat and pushed her glasses back up her nose. "Then I'm sorry to have taken up your time. I hope you have a good day." She held out her hand, waiting for a parting handshake.

Mireille reached out to accept it and be on their way. She reached out... and felt nothing. She looked down, finding Miss Deep's fingers submerged through her own palm. Those dismembered fingers wriggled playfully, waving back at her. Gasping, she pulled her hand back and looked back at the purple haired woman in shock.

"Would you care to reread those files?" Yomiko asked, smiling widely.

The two women nodded absently, and in tandem, opened up their folders again.

* * *

The four women sat in a secluded corner of the library, strategic enough for no one to overhear them, not even pay mind to them. At Yomiko's urging, the two pairs had swapped stories, a guarded briefing on each couple's background information. The I-jin and Soldats, two secret organizations with aspirations to take the world for themselves, which they were currently fighting against. Both of them were quite amazed at what each had gone through.

Yomiko smiled and clapped her hands gleefully. "There! Isn't it nice to find out these things about each other? They'll help us get along better for the mission!"

The waif smiled softly. "Hai... Miss Deep, Miss Readman... Can you tell us anything about how the I-jin might be tied to Soldats?"

Mireille nodded in agreement. "Is there any connection at all that you can make?"

"I'll let The Paper brief you on that."

Taking her cue, Yomiko cleared her throat meekly and pushed her glasses back up her nose. Shuffling through her briefcase, she pulled out photocopies and excerpts for the assassin duo to peruse. "You see, over the course of time, phrases or words become corrupted as they're translated and retranslated again. In our collection of ancient English alchemical manuscripts, there's mention of The Great Reader; it's an obscure legend explains how a book was made from the pulp of the Tree of Life. One can find their destiny through this book and realize their greatness to bring about revolution, to bring about change, or find those who do have that power.

"Soldats covers one thousands years of Europe's dark history, and Noir embodies that very darkness. Around the time of Noir's emergence, this myth had reached its peak in being known... which isn't by much considering it was rarely even mentioned before. In the very few documents we found pertaining to Soldats and Noir, there was only one that mentioned The Grand Reader. Judging by Kirika-chan's descriptions of Le Grande Retour, it follows the same mysticism and methods of alchemical purification, refinement in the service of love, or, ah, in this case, hatred. It's quite a mystery how three specific people could be chosen as the Trees for Le Grande Retour..."

The Corsican crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Are you saying that some magic book told Altena and her order who had the potential to become Noir?"

"Um... yes?" the bibliophile replied.

"And now super-powered clones are using the information from ancient manuscripts and travelers' journals to find some magic book?"

Miss Deep shook her head. "Yes, it does seem too far-fetched to believe, but we had our most reliable sources working nonstop around the clock to find even the smallest scrap of a connection between what the I-jin want and what Soldats has, or had. That's how we were able to find out about you two. All we ask is that you help us stop them. The very least you can do is guide us to The Manor that you spoke of; we can recover the book on our own."

Kirika's eyes, changing from the blank stare of integrating this information, shifted to glance at the shadows behind the shelves. "But Soldats... they're watching us. If Noir even dares to reemerge, they will come after us."

Nancy gave a look of sympathy to Kirika - she knew what it was like to live your entire life under the shadow of a sinister entity. "I'm sure that the current higher ups of Soldats could do without what they believe to be an overly superstitious, outdated ritual, so I believe they wouldn't give us much interference." She winked conspiratorially. "Besides, if they do, you have the far-reaching arms of the Royal Library Force to run into."

Yomiko smiled. "Hai! We could always use new agents! It would be great to work with Kirika-chan and..." she looked at the blonde woman, "I... I didn't get your name."

She sighed in defeat. She may as well give in to the insanity. "Mireille Bouquet," she stated plainly.

"That's such a lovely name! We'll have a wonderful time working together! Don't you agree, Deep-san?"

"Hai, Yomiko... But since we're all getting to know each other on an first name basis, I may as well join in too." She nodded her head, making it a substitute for a curt bow. "Nancy Makuhari."

Miss Deep slid each assassin a small envelope, which they opened up to find a tiny earpiece for them, invisible to any passerby. They put them on and were greeted by a distinguished male voice.

"Welcome Noir. You are hereby honourary agents to the Royal British Library Division of Special Operations. Or DIET, for short. I will be your temporary superior, Joker. A pleasure to have such skilled professionals with us today."

Mireille looked to Kirika. "Charmed, I'm sure."

"My, you don't sound too pleased. I assure you, you will be rewarded handsomely for your cooperation." From his tone, they could tell a cool smirk crossed his face. "Ladies, I would hate to be a bother, but time is of the essence. We'd like to immediately set ourselves on getting that book out of the I-jin's clutches. We currently have a trace on your location; head for the Eiffel Tower and wait for further instructions."

Deciding that the business order of their meeting should be taken elsewhere, the two pairs stepped outside of the library, finding it to be noon. The sun shone still, just a little bit hotter, but the breezes were also a little cooler, and when in Paris, such an atmosphere meant that taking a leisurely stroll was a viable activity to engage in.

It was an idyllic outing, considering how they were all being called to save the world from some unknown danger.

Kirika watched uninterested and Yomiko looked longingly at the bookstores while their respective partners browsed the shops together.

As their feet took them to approach the Eiffel Tower, their eyes meandered to the very top of the famed historical structure and pinnacle of French tourism.

"Hmm..." Nancy made the subtle motion for them to stop. "Joker, we're at the Eiffel Tower."

"As I can see. Our satellites are currently sweeping our side of the globe for any I-jin activity; this might take a while since we have some meteorological interference to deal with. For now, go up to the very top, your support will meet with you. The Paper, I'm sure you'll be glad to see him again-"

"Drake-san!" cried Yomiko in joy, then made a run for the base and its elevators.

An amused sigh echoed in their earpieces. "Just don't be too rough on the old boy."

The trip up was a bit of a hassle, taking elevators up and climbing stairs was no feat, difficult with all of the tourists they were mixed up in. Finally reaching their meeting place, Yomiko and Nancy were relieved to see their support, Mr. Drake, looking well and recovered.

Their brute force was busy appreciating the Parisian skyline, facing away from them. He was currently carrying an extremely large rucksack on his broad back, making him look like a backpacking tourist. It was most probably filled with the munitions needed for the mission.

"Drake-san!"

That sure got his attention. "Well, it finally took you long enough. And don't give me that tourist season excuse. This is the last thing I need, you know? I was just released a couple of days ago when they hand me the assignment to go to France. I thought this would be a pretty sweet deal: I hang around, eat a baguette, buy some souvenirs for Maggie. I read the newspaper today and it said 'Expect a great windfall - big fortune ahead!' Instead I turn around and find bad luck and big trouble heading my way." He stopped mid-rant and noticed the two new pretty faces behind them. "Is that them?" he asked, glancing in Kirika and Mireille's direction.

The Paper and Miss Deep nodded.

"And they're really good professionals?"

They nodded again.

He shrugged, resigned. "I think I'll let the fates call it even."

Joker's voice came back on all of their communication pieces. "Agents, we have the reports. Our satellites tell us that there is an unusually dense cloud cluster moving from the Bay of Biscay to the mainland. It has a straight course towards the Spanish-French border. Judging by how the I-jin are fond of using steam, I wouldn't be surprised if the cloud cover is for their latest base."

"So what are you suggesting we do about it, Joker?" asked Drake.

"Right now, I'm suggesting an intercept course while I begin mobilizing whatever forces we have at hand."

"And how are we going to get there?" asked Kirika softly.

Yomiko smiled widely and wheeled her travois up the nearest service entrance. She broke out running up the maintenance stairs - she was going to climb to the very top of the Eiffel Tower.

Nancy grabbed the two honourary agents and followed after The Paper. "Come on!"

Drake slapped his forehead. "Not again." Hefting the heavy knapsack, he lumbered after them.

All of them held tight to the railing as they raced upwards to the precariously stable platform. They had caught The Paper just as she was opening her suitcase and unleashing her arsenal. A flurry of square snowflakes immediately surrounded her; her arms were waving about like a maestro, directing each sheet to its proper place.

Mireille and Kirika were amazed by the sheer display of her power for the first time. Then their jaws dropped as they saw what she had constructed.

A giant paper airplane. Complete with aerodynamic tail.

The Paper hopped up into the very fold, settling herself there as pilot, and motioned for the others. "All aboard!"

Smirking, Miss Deep took a running start and launched herself forward, phasing through the bottom of the plane and out of her librarian disguise. She popped up beside her partner, reclining in her utility cat suit.

"C'mon ladies, we don't want to be late for the party," said Drake.

"Hai!" exclaimed Kirika as she took her seat on the makeshift aircraft. She actually seemed to be excited about all this.

Mireille looked at the weapon in her hands then made her way to the plane. "This is a mad, mad tea party!"

"Everyone ready?" cried their support as he prepared to launch. "I'll take your silence as a yes. Three!" He made a running start.

"Two!" His arms prepared themselves for the throw.

"One!" At the edge.

"FIRE!"

The paper airplane went sailing, and their support man jumped after them. He landed right on target, clutching the tail to keep himself on board.

"You and your bright ideas," he grumbled. He then turned his head to the women of Noir, holding tightly to the plane and their weapons. "Don't worry. She won't drop us... this time."

* * *

Their flight had gone relatively smoothly, thanks to Yomiko's handling, it was just a matter of riding the air currents and thermals. They followed Joker's directions, which was pretty much heading straight towards the new I-jin base.

They sat tight, and watched the group of clouds in the horizon get bigger as they approached it.

"Mission team, you're making good progress," commented Joker through their earpieces. "As soon as you get past the cloud barrier, it would help if we were given a visual of the base."

"I got your visual right here, Joker," said Drake. He reached under his skullcap and flipped some view-finding contraption over his eye.

"You needn't speak so rudely, Mister Drake."

They were getting much closer; the wall of steam warmed the cold air of the high altitude. At the speed they were going at, the looming white puffs of air threatened to swallow them up.

"Slow your approach, Yomiko," suggested Nancy. "We want to avoid detection. Plus, we don't know what's behind the cover. It's better to be safe."

"Hai!"

Gliding at a reasonable pace, they were ready to break through the steam curtain. Everyone held tightly to what was on hand, tense with anticipation, waiting for an attack on any and all sides as they passed through.

Nothing so far.

The haze was beginning to thin out, and they could make out a few faint shapes ahead of them. This was it, this was the base.

Pushing forward, they were greeted by the sight of a flying island of metal. It was similar in design to the sea-faring base that they dealt with months earlier, but instead of a rocket as the middle pillar, it was a large broadcasting tower, and four smaller towers aligned perfectly to the four winds.

Drake tapped his eyepiece. "You getting this, Joker?"

"Quite a sight," he replied. "Move in for a closer look."

Leaning hard, Yomiko maneuvered the craft to circle the flying base, slowly spiraling downwards to record any and every detail possible for Joker and the library to use to its advantage.

As they made a slow pass around the smaller western tower, they saw two female figures perched on a girder. Everyone could not believe their eyes as they saw that one of the two was Yomiko! The second one, her companion wore the strange old-fashioned period clothing that many of the I-jin were prone to wear, and she was beautiful as well, but no less deadly.

"Welcome to Laputa,¹" called the Yomiko clone. She nodded. "You have the honours, Tokyo Rose."

Her companion smirked and readied the microphone in her hands. "Thank you, Paper Cut." She addressed her captive audience. "I'm sorry that the last thing you'll see is Utopia in the making." The Rose aimed at a point in the air, close to the mission team.

"What is she doing?" Mireille wondered aloud.

She was answered when a thunderous sound erupted from their starboard side. They didn't feel the heat of an explosion, but it sure had the force of one.

"It's a sonic boom!" Kirika's reply was punctuated as another one rocked the air underneath the plane.

"Hold tight!"

Concentrating, sheets ballooned out from under them into a paper cocoon, protecting all those inside. The white sphere flew up as another sonic boom popped it high into the air and hopefully out of the Tokyo Rose's range.

It reformed back into the plane, and dove for cover on the other side of the center tower. Floating in the shadow of the main tower, everyone recouped their wits.

* * *

Joker had witnessed everything that was going on through Drake's portable camera. If there ever was a time to smooth down his hair, this was it. He watched the most prominent members of his team looking quite shaken.

"Th-that was me..." Yomiko choked out in disbelief. "How could that be me?!"

Nancy answered, a flash of memory coming to her. "Ikkyu... he said he could simply make a clone of you! He must've taken your DNA when you were captured!"

"This is an interesting development indeed," Joker said. He paused to rub his brow in thought, considering the next course of action. "Mister Drake, same protocol as the last mission: scout the base for our analysis and we'll relay the information for you to sabotage it any way you can. The Paper, Miss Deep, and Noir are needed groundside to find and retrieve the book. Give them the proper munitions and be on your way."

Joker watched as the slight shaky movement on screen meant that Drake was reaching back and rummaging through his pack. He produced two large semi-automatic rifles and presented them to Noir.

Kirika eyed them, then refused. "Something smaller."

"You sure?"

"Trust us," Mireille took out her Walther while her partner followed suit with her Beretta. "We'll need something smaller."

They were presented with an arrangement of pistols. They each took one more, a balanced gun in each hand.

"What? You're not gonna take any extra bullets?" he asked in disbelief.

"No," Kirika said simply and pocketed the firearm.

Joker smirked at the exchange. Digging into reports of their past hits, Noir was capable enough to make efficient use of every single bullet. He straightened himself as the view showed that Mister Drake would be leaving the company of the paper plane crew.

"Agents, good luck and god speed."

* * *

The two I-jin looked around, scanning where their quarry could be.

Paper Cut stared out in thought. "If I know them, they'll split up. Mata Hari and myself will be the main force. The brute is offense; he'll set out to blowing up whatever he thinks is important. Those girls... they're wildcards, but my guess is they're cover fire, so they'll be with the other two."

"We should split up then." Tokyo Rose tapped her headset. "I'll track the oaf down by detecting the transmission waves."

She shook her head. "He doesn't matter. Knowing myself, she'll insist that they get the book first."

Their eyes traced around the main pillar, and the Paper Cut was correct as the plane darted out of its shelter, fleeing at a downward angle.

"Get Fabre, tell him we need to borrow one of his pets."

* * *

The four women held on tightly as their descent whipped their hair and clothes about them. They could see that the ground was coming dangerously close to them. Each detail grew: the mountains in the distance, the village before the foothills, the hint of a wine grove on the other side...

"Slow down!" cried Mireille. "We want to live long enough to fulfill the mission!"

The plane righted itself straight and level, bringing them closer to stability. Their speed rate was decelerating, meaning air currents weren't rushing at them any more.

"Gomen ne..." Yomiko apologized sheepishly. "I'm just in a rush to get that book, you know? Do you know where they might keep The Grand Reader?"

"No..." started Kirika. She scanned the ground below. "There is a village, and The Manor itself. The book might be in the village church... Altena said that the Inner Trees were blessed by a priest... Maybe it is there. And maybe it is in The Manor. I don't know."

Nancy readied the guns in her boot holsters. "Then it's best to check both out. I doubt the I-jin know where it is specifically, so we have at least one advantage over them - we have two people who know the locations well."

Kirika spied a small clearing in the forested foothills around the village. It was small enough to house them, and it was close enough to a path that would lead them to The Manor. She knew that path well... it was where that old woman sacrificed her life for her own. Just so that a single Tree might live on, so Le Grande Retour could not be prevented. So many people died for her to become Noir, which she refused to become. She would not let their deaths be in vain, she would seek light by Mireille's side.

Hesitantly, she pointed at that clearing. "Land there."

Yomiko did as told and eased the plane into the clearing and into the shelter of the trees. Well hidden and on the ground, everyone unloaded the craft.

One preliminary check showed that they were equipped and ready, and all four were ready to walk down that path.

The Japanese girl put her hand up, stopping the library agents.

"Please, stay here and out of sight. I don't think the villagers would take too kindly to any outsiders. They are Soldats as well, and they will only welcome their own."

Nodding in understanding, Miss Deep and The Paper watched as Noir made their way out onto the path and headed for the village.

* * *

Kirika looked around herself in a place that was recreated out of her perfect memory. She turned her head to her partner, who looked at the village with a sense of detachment. Their two hearts were of one, but Mireille didn't see when the village was in its humble flourishing, the very same village that had housed her as one of its own children.

They were making another pilgrimage as Noir, but this time it wasn't to the past, but rather towards their future - for all of humanity's future.

The final stop in their pilgrimage was the very village they were currently in. For hundreds of years, a thousand before now, it worked only as a checkpoint before weary pilgrims could journey to the Manor, like Glastonbury was to Avalon, serving to lodge the tired Trees or those of the highest order in Soldats.

Tradition kept its firm grasp on this place, the place where time flows slowly, for it stood before Kirika's eyes as idyllic and humble as it was in her memory. Not even the scorched earth tactic the deviated hand of Soldats employed could eradicate its hold.²

It was eerily supernatural that it would rebuild itself so quickly, regenerating over all of its past scars and burns, so well that the devastation was barely seen, like it didn't exist anymore, but small traces made themselves known. Only the eyes of Soldats and Noir could see and judge for themselves.

Why wouldn't it be strange? They were of Soldats. They were like a nest of insects, a colony that lived underground and scrambled over each other as they festered in the darkness... Noir could eliminate wave after wave of their armies of men, but another legion would spring from the fallen like dragon's teeth...

No. That image was too brutal, too mindless; that wasn't Soldats. They were not like insects, rather, they were like blood. The children of this village, every single person who belonged to the order of Soldats, were exactly like that; no more grotesque and malevolent than insects, but as natural and disturbingly staining as blood. They flowed out as naturally as blood from a wound. Wipe the blood away, and only more crimson liquid would pool out in its place.

They were the blood of Soldats, the very life of the body that flowed from the wilderness, spread itself all over the world, and flowed back into the body again. A body with two hands, the two hands of Soldats: Noir.

Mireille and Kirika walked down the pale dusty paths, passing the villagers. They looked to the two and recognized Kirika, and quickly assumed the other to be Corsica's child. Now they saw that Chloe was not the True Noir.

Mireille looked around her, starting as she heard passers by gasping softly. She looked around, seeing them stop one by one to bow their heads. Women peeked their heads outside their houses then cast their eyes to the ground, men removed their caps and paid their homage to Noir, children stopped playing and reverently did the same. Mireille was slightly unnerved at the sight as Kirika brought her to the eastern edge of the town.

They spied the shrine, lovingly rebuilt as well, housing the stone relief of Noir. Mireille blinked at the relief of the two hands facing each other, the carving that was on her father's pocket watch was enlarged and bared right before her. She couldn't help but feel sickness and pity that everyone lived their lives for this image, that they were so complacent to base their faith in the myth that two women could take the sins of the entire world; couldn't they see what their belief did to Kirika? No, they were blinded by their acceptance of the darkness, and could see nothing else, forgetting everything that surrounded them as time did in turn with this place.

The tinny peal of the brass bell called to Noir, and they stood before a building slightly larger than all the others. Its steeple gave its purpose away, calling the people to mass, but what religion did these people have? Neither of them knew that mere hours before Soldats' retaliation, they had reaffirmed their faith in the two maidens, bowing their heads before the ancient tapestry and their sacred swords. They would lay their lives down to strengthen the Tree, to bring about Le Grande Retour.

Both of them placed their hands on the solid wooden doors, pushing at the firm reconstructed entrance. They entered the chapel, finding black pervading its entire space. Not even the light that pierced through the looming glass windows could breach the darkness, like the light was trapped in the glass, going no farther than the clear barriers, looking on from the outside in.

Without the light they could make out the shapes of pews, two neat rows separated by a wide aisle. Their eyes were led to the pulpit, where an altar was laid out. Where normally one would see a crucifix over the altar, two slim swords were placed side by side together, the light gleaming off their polished surfaces. Above the twin weapons, there was the bright tapestry of the two maidens, face to face, clad in their white robes. The eternal guardians of Soldats.

The women blinked as they saw a figure kneeling on the steps of the pulpit, head bowed and his hands clasped in prayer before him. His attire was black as well, and the trace of white along the neck meant that he was the priest of this chapel.

The doors spread themselves wide, letting the sunlight further in, elongating their shadows until the tips touched the deacon's back. Nonplussed, he turned to catch sight of the maidens of his faith.

"Noir," he breathed out. With great effort, he brought himself up and turned to face them, a limp hindering him.

With the light at their backs, they were walking shadows in the priest's vision, the face of Noir obscured.

Their clothes were swept up with every step they took, and their shades followed, tendrils of black shadow fluttering in the wind they created.

Invisible shrill and bass melancholy strings seemed to hum with their approach, silent accompaniment to the symphony of their bodies' movements. If the angels were singing now, their voices would be ringing a dirge of melodic chants that crescendoed and peaked by Noir's very presence.

"My children, what can I do for you?" the priest asked as they stopped before him.

"Tell us about The Grand Reader..." the waif said softly.

"The Grand Reader? You must mean Le Grande Retour."

"You know what we're talking about." Mireille narrowed her eyes.

"I only blessed the children who would become the Trees - you two, and Chloe."

"Tell us if you fear the eternal darkness," they demanded in unison.

The elder man sighed and touched his handicapped leg, something that he was rewarded with for protecting the young Tree. "The Grand Reader... I was present for the choosing ceremony, along with Altena... The Grand Reader was opened and found to be blank. After being baptized with her blood, it was then tested and purified in fire. Still intact among the embers and with writing on it, Altena read the clues leading to her destiny: to find the children would become the Inner Trees. It led her to you. But I do not know where it is kept. All I can tell you is that it must be at The Manor; it is a holy book, and so it must be kept on holy ground."³

Kirika sighed. "Thank you."

"Why do you seek it, my children?"

"Because in a world of darkness, we seek light instead," answered Mireille.

He turned to the altar, where a bowl of bread and cup of wine sat. Preparing the materiel for communion, he broke off pieces of bread and dipped them into the fine red wine, replacing them in the bowl. He turned back to face them and the light, holding the bowl up in offering.

Reverently, they accepted the sacrament.

With the high priest's blessing, the pair left the church and went back to the their awaiting teammates.

To be continued...

Author's Notes:  
0 - Another reference to Noir, episode 19, "Both Hands of Soldats" The library across the street from the cathedral can be found in the research montage that takes place about 5 minutes into the episode. I chose this library instead of the one in episode 10 ("True Noir") because of its scenery and its purpose. Instead of using a library that was a killing ground, I chose the other one that was used for research, looking for the truth.  
1 - Laputa is the name of the flying island in _Gulliver's Travels_, which was home to a civilization of misguided scientists.  
2 - The village that was described and the events that pertain to it can be found in Noir episode 22, "The End of the Journey." The church scene is pretty much my vision of Noir enacting those dramatic, sweeping scenes that are usually found in John Woo action films. Don't you agree that Mireille and Kirika would look damn cool if they did one of those scenes if they had trench coats and sunglasses?  
3 - In the final episode of Noir - episode 26, "Birth" - During Altena's monologue, there is a montage where a flame sparks and a book appears within the flame, then there are flashes of realistic like photographs on single colour backgrounds. I totally spun that image off into something else entirely, but just for the purpose of this fic, any small detail is utilized to bring the two series together.  
The third chapter is still the third chapter, even if it is split into two parts! This part was getting too big for my liking, and I didn't want to bore you readers on all of the details I've been mashing into this last chapter. But don't worry, I assure that the second part will fulfill the standard quota for cool action scenes and ingenious ways of killing.


	5. Chapter 3B: Climax

Disclaim or Die: Read Or Die (R.O.D) is copyrighted by and the property of Hideyuki Kurata, Akitaro Yamada, Studio Deen/SME, Sony, and currently licensed to Manga Entertainment. Noir is copyrighted by and the property of Ryoe Tsukimura, Bee Train, Victor Entertainment, Inc. and currently licensed to ADV Films.

**Ripped From the Pages  
Chapter 3B - Climax**

Trekking across the mountains wasn't too difficult to accomplish. Yomiko had kept the plane intact until Noir's return, so it was convenient for them to save their strength on the flight over the mountain passes. The wine grove and grand stone house below indicated that this was The Manor that was treated with such reverence and respect from those within Soldats.

Landing before the rows of grape vines that had grown rampant and letting everybody off, The Paper looked around; now where to put all of this arsenal? Oh yes, she had left her suitcase behind on the Eiffel Tower; she lost many good suitcases that way. Flicking her wrist, all the sheets separated, fluttering around her. Grabbing hold of one, she directed all the others to fly up into the inside of her trench coat to settle neatly into all the pockets and paste themselves to the coat lining.

With everything packed up, the team forged ahead into the standing ancient ruin, entering its abandoned corridors. The dead bodies of the nuns in Altena's order were tastefully removed by now, no doubt by whatever secret service cleaned up after them, but the memories of them littered Kirika and Mireille's vision.

Guns drawn and ready, the dark pair led the library agents through the stone hallways while Miss Deep phased in and out of closed doors they passed, quickly checking if the book was in any of them. Soon, they were taken past the empty rooms and into a grand antechamber with stained glass windows and high glass windows, letting in plenty of light, but also casting many shadows. This was where they did battle with one of Altena's right hand women, who bore a broadsword and armor under her robes. Noir peered at the stone pillars around them, checking to see if there was some ambush awaiting them. The three armed women formed a circle, back to back, with The Paper in the middle of it.

"Where could the book be?" whispered Yomiko. "We've checked every room, and we have many more to look through!"

"We have to stop now. Keeping on like this would take too much time. By the time we finish, the I-jin and their flying base might be here by then... They could just level the entire Manor, thus eliminating us, and then search the wreckage for the book," Mireille whispered back.

"Altena adheres strictly to ceremony and significance; I believe she wouldn't keep it in just any room. It must be close to the center, close to where other rituals of Noir were held," Kirika said softly.

A skitter of movement alerted them. Mireille looked down to find a kabuto beetle crawling towards her booted foot. "Huh? A kabuto beetle? They're not from around here."

"Beetle?!" Miss Deep reflexively fired at the bug, a single bullet turning it into paste.

"What was that for?"

"The I-jin are near!"

Immediately, the sound of explosions and falling rock and debris told them that the I-jin were definitely near, and closing in fast, judging by the increased volume of that terrible row.

Bursting into the stone antechamber was a giant wasp, and riding on its back were the Tokyo Rose and Yomiko's clone.

"Fabre will not be happy about that," quipped the Paper Cut.

"We need help now!" Miss Deep tapped at her earring. "Joker? Joker?!" She was greeted with static. This was not good. "Something is jamming with our transmission!"

The Rose leapt off the back of the insectoid beast. "That would be me." She skillfully flipped the microphone in her hand, and touched a button on it. A low buzzing was emitted, to which the giant wasp responded. She nodded her head in the direction of her opponents, indicating to attack them.

Opening its maw, it successively spat out gobs of a strange and sticky white substance, immediately taking out Mireille and Yomiko and plastering them to the walls. Kirika dodged out of the way, and Miss Deep let the substance pass through her.

The Paper and the Corsican struggled against the rapidly drying paste. Soon they couldn't even more their bodies, only their heads, which were kept free of the substance.

"What is this?!"

"I don't know, Mireille-san!" She turned her head to look right at herself. The only noticeable difference between the two of them was that while the original had her forelocks braided, this one did not. "Why are you doing this? Why?"

"Because... I'm an I-jin woman, all the way," The Paper Cut said venomously. She touched the spatter meant for Miss Deep, which had adhered to a nearby stone pillar, and it flaked off in her hands. The flakes turned hard, and she hurled them like shuriken at her immobilized victims.

"Paper?!" Thinking quickly, Yomiko turned her restraint into a shield. Pushing through, two large circular pieces came apart at her hands. "Yah!" She held one up in front of her head and hurled the other in the line of fire, and it dropped as it stopped the shards aimed for Mireille's head.

Yomiko broke free from her shell, and ran up to Mireille. Laying hands on the restraint, she pulled it off her still intact, and held it up like a shield while she tended to her.

"Mireille-san! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine... You go get the book!"

"How do I do that?"

She pointed down a dark hall. "Follow it until you reach a grand door with the insignia of the two maidens. It will lead you to a room at the end of it, to your left, with two swords in it... Look behind the swords and follow the secret staircase. It'll take you to a white hall that's right beneath us. Be careful, there's a magma pit. Now go!"

"But-"

"Don't worry about us. We are Noir, we've been through worse."

"H-hai!"

She handed the paper shield to her comrade and made a run for the hall. Her copy soon followed after her.

"Everyone! Stall them!" cried Mireille.

* * *

With the view piece still over his eye, Drake scanned his new surroundings. The ubiquitous crisscross of pipes and catwalks were very similar to that of the I-jin base at sea. Traveling through the dark and dank hallways, he made comparisons between the old base and new base. For one thing, this air-faring base was smaller (and rightfully so), and second of all, there weren't any steam trains or anything that remotely resembled a steam train.

"Joker? You got anything I can work with now? I've been walking around for nearly an hour, give or take a few minutes, and you haven't given me anything to work with!"

An exasperated sigh greeted him through the earpiece. That was a first from the man who always held a poker face. He was probably in the war room by now.

"I'm sorry, Mister Drake, but we lost contact with the others a few minutes ago. Something is jamming their signals."

"Don't worry, you know those girls can take care of themselves. You've still got me. Now, where do I go? Do I take out the main power source?"

There was a pause as Joker tried to direct information to him. "No, do not take out the main power source. I'm getting a slight radioactive signature. They're using nuclear energy. If you destroy it and send the the base crashing, it could lead to an environmental disaster."

"What about a control room? Any way I can commandeer that?"

"I'll give you the map right now. It's remarkable how similar the base design is."

"Yeah, I noticed. Makes it pretty convenient for us."

A three-dimensional schematic of the base appeared in his right eye's vision. A line darted from the red blip that represented him and connected it to a location deep within the base, right underneath the center tower. Drake couldn't help but roll his eyes; like all typical super villains, the very core of the secret base held the control room.

"Be careful, Mister Drake, the power source is there as well."

And the power source.

Drake readied the large rifle in his arms.

"Roger."

With that, he was on his way.

* * *

Mata Hari and the Tokyo Rose were already currently engaged in battle, and were quite evenly matched in hand-to-hand combat, but their skills for multi-tasking were impressive.

"What are your plans for Laputa?" questioned Miss Deep as she successively high kicked at the Rose.

Rose kept ducking and tumbling out of her reach. "Isn't it obvious? We plan on broadcasting Beethoven's suicide song to the world!"

"How can you do that?" Punch. Swipe.

Crouch. "We still have a recording of the man's symphony. We'll work with that!" She sprang up and took it as her turn to retaliate.

Miss Deep stood at the ready as her opponent tried to punch and kick, only to go have her attacks mean nothing. "But with a flying base?"

"A rocket is too obvious, don't you agree, Mata Hari?"

"Hai. Too obtuse. But the rocket was all Ikkyu's idea."

"Boys and their toys."

Faking forward then snapping back, Tokyo Rose backflipped and kicked off of Miss Deep's abdomen; she couldn't maintain the phasing for too long. The Rose lunged close, giving a cheeky grin before her hand snapped up, her palm butting into her opponent's forehead.

Recovering quickly, Miss Deep activated her power again. Just in time to have Rose's hand pass through her, and the rest of her body following after from the momentum.

Not caught off guard by all this, Tokyo Rose brandished her microphone baton and twirled it in her hand. She spun back to face Deep, and was lucky enough to get a kick to the back in, sending her reeling forward. She smiled at the damage she had done. As Miss Deep turned slightly and raised her head a little to look at her, Tokyo Rose charged forward and butted the microphone to her abdomen, attempting to knock the wind out of her. But she was unsuccessful when it was phase embedded into her stomach, not harming her at all.

Miss Deep smirked. "Hm. You can't use matter against me."

The Rose smirked back. "Hm. Radio waves and sound waves aren't matter."

Pressing a button, she struck out a note into the receiver, and it amplified.

Waves of sound and air slammed into Miss Deep, sending her flying back and slamming into the wall. She slumped over and clutched her stomach, feeling like all of her insides were painfully wrenched, but the pain was slowly receding. Out of commission for the time being, she looked up again to find that Mireille had taken her place in the fight against Tokyo Rose.

The Corsican rammed into the I-jin, broadsiding her with the paper shield. After tearing through the shield with her sound waves, the close quarters fighting began. Mireille was holding her own in the fight, exchanging punches and kicks, while trying to manage a decent shot at the clone with her Walther. But the Rose could easily deflect the shots as they bounced off sound waves she emitted. Mireille could feel the very air vibrate around them, making her a little uneasy, but she held tough.

Sleight of hand, the Rose moved her hands in and out of the folds of her robe. The I-jin woman's hands spread her arms out and came together, clapping together at Mireille's temples.

The blonde haired woman felt a sharp pain and the sting of cold metal on each side of her head; disoriented, she doubled over and stumbled around a bit.

Tokyo Rose held the microphone to her lips and opened them, creating high tone, some sort of refined shriek that rang in Mireille's ears - amplified feedback from the her earpiece. She had turned their own equipment against them. The discs that she had attached to Mireille's temples were sound activated, and crackles of green electricity arced and spewed from them, zapping the woman.

The blonde clutched at her head, the noise and pain getting to her. She cried out as her head was flooded with sensations and all her thoughts were scrambled. Losing all sense of direction, she backed into a pillar, her knees buckling out from under her.

"Mireille!" yelled Kirika, who was currently trying to dodge the Paper Cut's reach. She fired a few shots at the Yomiko clone, but she easily shielded herself with bits of the wasp paper on hand, which she, in turn, doubly used to slash at the girl.

Kirika glanced over to find her partner in a very vulnerable position. She looked back at her opponent then her partner, debating her choice. She immediately left the fight and ran to her partner's aid, giving the Paper Cut an opportunity catch up with herself.

Fishing around her pockets, Kirika found her ID card. She looked at it and back at the retreating Yomiko clone, who was making a good distance down the hall. She glanced around again to find Mireille cornered by her adversary, standing over her and ready for the kill with her weapon pointed forward.

Her legs were spread shoulder width for balance and she leant forward for the next strike, bracing herself for a sonic boom; a perfectly wide stance. Tumbling forward and underneath, Kirika's arm shot straight up and swiped, effectively slitting her throat with the card.

The Tokyo Rose gurgled and lurched forward, quite dead.

Mireille was momentarily shocked by her partner's ingenuity as her wits came back to her. She accepted the hand held out to her, bringing her back up.

"Thank you. But I still say your style..." She glanced at the bloody laminated card. "It lacks a certain finesse."

"Hn."

Going over to the now recovered Miss Deep, they helped her to her feet.

"We have to be quick. Hold my hands." The two women each took the bluenette's offered hands. "Show me, straightaway, where Yomiko is."

Mireille's free arm pointed at the wall to the left of the corridor, estimating where Altena's chamber would be. "There. In a room with two swords. She might be underground by now."

She squeezed their hands. "Run with me."

"What?"

No reply as they were simply pulled ahead and phased together through the stone walls. Noir was astonished that they felt no impact as the bricks went rushing to their vision, and they re-emerged unscathed. This was cutting down on their chase time, but they didn't know how far ahead the clone was.

Kirika blinked as they phased out one more wall and now approached the iron doors with the relief of two maidens. In sheer massiveness, they resembled those doors that led to an underground auditorium entirely of white marble. Underground.

Comprehension clicked.

Squeezing Nancy's hand gently, the little girl banked left, taking the other two with her. No questions, they let the girl lead them; she obviously knew the way. When Kirika stopped, they stopped.

"Down, Deep-san!"

Following the command, the three of them fell through the floor. As soon as they felt heat pervading the matter, Kirika tensed up, and Nancy took it as a sign to stop. The three of them craned their necks forward, trying to get a view of their new surroundings. Apparently in the fall, they had ended upside down, and they were now hiding in the distorted, melted walls, safely between two pillars.

Silent observers to two Paper Masters trying to find the book. Both of them had taken to the opposite side of the ceremonial hall and scrambled atop the ornate vent boxes. They jumped up onto the walls, scaling the rectangular niches in them and peering inside; they were large enough to hide a book, and perfectly shaped so.

Pure instinct, or the silent call of any book, drove them closer and closer to one alcove. In tandem, they sprang upwards and reached inside, but the ersatz Yomiko was quicker. She jumped back, landing gracefully on the floor with The Grand Reader in arm.

She held it up like a trophy, displaying it. The red-hot glow of the magma glinted off the worn gold foil that tinged its edges.

"No!" The Paper cried in anguish, and leapt at her. Immediately in mid-air, Yomiko let loose a flurry of index cards, like hundreds of knives spewing forth and slashing.

Her copy danced under the guillotine rain, sidestepping each and every rapid-fire sheet that embedded itself into the ground.

Yomiko landed before herself, with one more card in hand. She attacked and in spades.

"I won't let you take that book!"

The Paper Cut continued to dodge. "How can you even fight for this polluted world?"

"Why do you even ask that question? You're me; you know the answer!"

"I thought I knew it, but I was wrong."

"No, you're not! There is still good in the world, and what you're doing is evil! Everyone has a choice to make, and though some people in the world make the wrong ones, you have no right to take it away! You can't bring order to this chaos, you must simply let things be!"

"How cute, how optimistic," she sardonically replied.

The three of them observed Yomiko in a fight with herself, and for the most part, it seemed that the original was winning! The Paper kept pushing forward, driving the clone to back step across the room to their side.

Nancy groaned softly. "I... I can't keep this phase any longer... Hold tightly..." Still grasping both of their hands, she slowly lowered them out of the ceiling by their arms, dangling them behind the coming fight.

The opposing forces were coming.

Closer... Closer...

Yomiko raised her arm high to stab the deadly card down on her other self. But just as she brought it down, the Paper Cut caught the attack right in her hand. The two of them were locked in a battle of wills as they each tried to coerce the single sheet to do the bidding of the Paper Master. Yomiko still pushed them both back.

Finally, the stalemate broke, tearing the sheet in two. The Paper Cut acted quickly. Taking her ripped half, she turned the same trick on Yomiko, sharpening the serrated edge and aiming right for her throat.

Without hesitation, Noir leveled their guns right for the clone's head and fired at the same time.

The Paper Cut whimpered shortly, then collapsed on the floor, also quite dead. The Grand Reader tumbled out of her arms, falling right before Yomiko.

Letting Noir settle on the ground first, Nancy then followed, landing gracefully and catlike. She went over to her partner, who was paralyzed in shock at what had happened and tried to help her recover.

Kirika walked over and picked up The Grand Reader. She held the precious book in her hands. There was little to be said for its brilliance. Tiny, barely visible, colourful jewels lined the corners, embedded in the gold foil and leather that bound the fragile paper within. It was simply ornate, but the power that coursed through it was grand and tangible.

"Mireille..."

Her partner stood beside her, looking down on the book as well. They looked at the terribly awesome tome, wordlessly letting understanding pass between them.

"It's too dangerous to exist, Kirika. They can find and create more Noir from this book. The I-jin might not stop as well."

"Soldats mustn't get their hands on this. No one should. It'll only bring darkness..."

Yomiko and Miss Deep listened to their statements.

"Ano... there can be light brought out from this book too..." started The Paper.

Miss Deep placed a hand on her shoulder. "They're right. Soldats, the I-jin... anyone who wants to shape the world in their image will do anything to get a hold of that book."

"But it's a great discovery! It can help The Royal Library and... and... and I haven't read it yet!"

The blue-haired woman refused to shake her head at this moment. "Ie, The Paper. The Library may be made more vulnerable to attack if it were to possess the book, or become corrupted by its power. Something this great can only attract darkness. It may have the potential for the light... but for certain it will attract only darkness."

Clutching the book close, Kirika ran for the magma well, gaining as much momentum as she could. Gathering all her strength, she threw it from her arms, sending the Grand Reader hurtling down the chasm.

"No! You can't destroy it!" cried Yomiko, running after the girl.

Her blue eyes only widened in horror as she saw that precious book moving into the air. Without thinking, she ran after it, gaining enough momentum to spring up after it.

She went sailing after it... down, down the well.

"Yomiko!" Nancy screamed out in utter horror. She ran to the well's edge, in some futile effort to try and rescue her partner.

Miss Deep witnessed a shell of sheets mushroom out from under her partner's trench coat, spreading, expanding, covering her and shrinking into a protective ball.

Such a trick worked against Genjo Sanzo, his fire breath, and a torpedo, but it didn't last very long. What chance did she have against lava?

She hoped that she was wrong... She hoped that so strongly.

But she stopped when she saw the white ball sink into the fiery red sea.

* * *

Readying the heavy rucksack on his back, Drake considered what the next course of action was. He was getting near the control room, and none of the I-jin ran interference with him yet. This was suspiciously too easy. He looked all around the narrow area, the dark hall that would take him to his destination.

The skitterish rasping of insectoid limbs made the burly man whirl around with his gun at the ready. This was a sight he didn't expect to see: the larvae stage of Jean Henri Fabre riding on the back of a giant spider.

"This will be fun. Let's play!" the child taunted.

"Round two, bug boy!"

The arachnid reared back with a screech and grabbed forward with its arms at the appetizingly large prey. Drake immediately opened a round of fire, aiming right for the beast's head. He ducked as it retaliated by spitting webbing at him, then rolled away as the webbing turned into venom.

He stared as the green ooze ate right through the metal floor and walls. He would be cornered if he went further into the hall, and right now, he was trapped.

Drake Anderson may be a reckless man, but he did not go into these things unprepared. He pulled out a grenade from his pocket. Plucking out the pin with his teeth, he drop-kicked the projectile, letting it roll under the arachnid's swollen abdomen.º

Hurtling himself clear of the explosion, he got satisfaction as he heard the beast's death cry among the rumble of the corridor's structure collapsing. Ducking and rolling into a safe corner, he checked his current location and how much further he had to go. Not far to go, just one more level.

Unaware of it, he rubbed his solar plexus. And to think, merely days ago, he almost got his insides ripped out. Good thing he was fully healed, or else that stunt he pulled would've been hindered.

Reloading his rifle with a full magazine, he needed to be prepared if he was going to use the element of surprise against the I-jin.

* * *

The Paper could only expect the unbearable heat and pain of death to come quickly, in a flash. She closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the quick gasp and the bright light of her end to come.

But there was nothing.

Wrapped up in her cocoon, she didn't feel the overbearing heat. In fact, it suddenly felt rather cool... and spacious. She noticed her legs were extended, touching the floor.

Floor?

Yomiko cautiously, slowly, opened one eye, then the other and unwrapped her arms from her chest.

Eyes of sea blue scanned the hall of pale white marble. It looked exactly like the ceremonial hall she was in moments before, but more empty; there was no fire altar, no vent boxes, no slots cut into the walls. Pillars lined the hall, pillars etched with some familiarly ancient design. It was so starkly, beautifully white, she barely noticed the contrasting dark figure hunched over in the corner of the hall.

She slowly approached him, and saw he sat on another piece of white stone, a pedestal that was like a miniature of the columns around her, around them.

Black, short, semi-unruly hair was atop his head. The dark suit he wore shifted with each slight movement of his body as he was on his seat. There was something familiar in the dark charcoal grey of his jacket and pants, even in the hint of a brown vest underneath his jacket. He just sat there, completely harmless, he didn't give off the jittery tension that he would suddenly turn around and attack her.

Whoever he was, he seemed quite absorbed in what he was doing. It would be so rude to startle him.

"Ano... Hello?" Yomiko said clearly and softly as she edged near him.

"Hm?" a slight tenor tone absently, yet knowingly, replied. There wasn't a hint of annoyance in this syllable, nor was he startled either. His head began to turn to meet his visitor and Yomiko realized who this friendly face was.

"Donnie¹...?" she could barely say. The name came out caught in a cross of a high sigh and an uttered cry. It was impossible to see his face now, at this moment, right here. "I... I missed you. I'm so... so happy to see you again..." she choked out.

"Yomiko, it's so good to see you," Donnie said genuinely, and a smile crossed his handsomely soft-spoken features.

The need to cry stopped as she frantically touched her glasses, ready to take them off, for she could see he didn't have any spectacles on his face. "Donnie, please, your glasses... I-"

"You should keep them. I gave them to you, remember?"

"But... you don't have any glasses... how can you see?"

"I can see just fine. Besides... they always looked better on you." He smiled again. "Won't you sit down and read this book with me?"

An even bigger smile began to cross her face. She was surging with happiness, for it would be just as before. Her idle days of love with Donnie, where they would revel in each other and in any books they could read together. Maybe she was in heaven now. "H...h-hai... I will!" She scrambled to her knees beside him and peered at the book on his lap.

He looked down affectionately at his love. "It's a very interesting book, Yomiko. I'm sure you would enjoy it. I've had a bit of trouble reading it, but it's because you aren't here. Please, keep my place on the page?"

"Of course, Donnie!" She looked down to put her hand on the blank page, but stopped as she could see no words were written in the tome. "Donnie?"

"Put your hand there, Yomiko. Don't worry. Remember, you always come alive when you're around books. Should it be any different that they come alive when they're around you?"

There was only a gentle warmth that pervaded his every word and slight action. His words rang with a truth that Yomiko could only trust wholeheartedly. With a slight nod, she brought her hand onto the paper and watched in amazement as the words, the darkest black of ink flowed and formed, bleeding onto the page.

She wanted to gasp, but held it back, only to release it when his hand moved over to lie on hers. It was so strong, so concrete, this moment. Like every moment with him that she cherished before, paid back in full and more, surpassing the strongest that she ever felt.

That was what her bond to him was like. So strong in their common bond to the paper and the word, they could love each other all the more as they partook of this sacred study.

Both of their eyes moved in tandem, both going at a pace that savoured every word, every sentence. They drank into the story that was being told to them. Living and reliving through each description dictated to them in that two-dimensional reality.

A synchronized sigh was exhaled from the lovers as they crossed the final sentence in the middle of the page.

"You've led a wonderful and interesting life so far, Yomiko."

Finally, the question that would wake her from this dream was asked. "D-Donnie... am... am I dead?"

Once again, he could only patiently, affectionately, look at her and smile again. "That's for you to decide. Look over that last sentence again."

"Read or die..." Yomiko quoted.

"Hai, Yomiko. You have a choice. You were asked this before, but now it is asked of you again. Do you understand what is being said? What you must choose? I know that you do."

She looked at him, letting her thoughts run, letting everything fall into place.

To read is to obtain knowledge. Wisdom, intelligence, genius - they are the same. But to become filled with a divine understanding of everything; true enlightenment, by the spiritual, the physical, the mental, it is complete harmony that can be found out of chaos. To know brings the power to create... or to destroy. To utilize it for the benefit of the entire world... or reap bitter waste upon all.

To die is to make life forfeit. Maybe even transcend to another plane, higher than what could ever by physically comprehended. But for the physical, it is complete loss. Void, null, nothing. Especially when you hold that ability. Cut down what is in your way. Trim the obstacles and make room for your destiny to grow. There is the power to hold a life, or many lives, in your hand... elevate them, or crush them.

But both are driven by power - to search for it, to obtain it, to harness it. It is an all-consuming passion that would refine one and raise them to their destiny... or bring them to perish within the flames of ambition.

Slowly, The Paper rose to her feet. She radiated with a new confidence, fueled only by the amplification of what emotions she had lived off of before. "Donnie... I want to read."

The former Paper Master closed the text with a resounding thud and stood up to meet his former protégé, never taking his gaze off of hers. He brought his arms up to hold onto each of hers. "It was as you said before Yomiko. True love is much more wonderful-" he started.

"-and although there may be painful things-"

"-no matter what kind of love it is..." The two paused as they found that their faces were gravitating to the other's and let their last tender words together echo and ring.

"You can be the heroine." Donnie finished.

They looked past half-lidded eyes as their lips breached the space between them, united again.

Yomiko closed her eyes, feeling the warmth and air surging through her body. She curled her body against his solid one, and let go when a wall of hot wind slammed against her cheeks.

"Haaah!" she gasped out. Her eyes shot open as her head craned upwards, seeing all above her.

A distant overhead of white marred by a lurid orange-red glow. Something... something was coming down for her.

A falling angel... dark as ebony, hair as blue as the night...

"Nancy!" The Paper cried out. Her hands peeled out from her rapidly incinerating paper cocoon, reaching high up for her rescuer. "Nancy-san!"

Immediately, cool and leather covered hands grabbed onto hers, clasping tight and pulling up with great strength.

"I got her! Help me get her up quickly!" yelled Miss Deep to the pair above them.

Mireille and Kirika both took a steady hold of the emergency cable and pulled their comrades back from the well of fire and into safety. They saw that The Paper had come up empty handed.

"Bakayaro!" cursed Mireille. "You stupid girl! Is any book worth more than your life?!"

Someone had already spoken out her anger at the situation, there was no need to reprimand her any more. "Did you get the book?" Nancy asked softly.

"No... I didn't."

"Why?"

"Because... because I decided that it was better to make myself the heroine of my story. I don't want to know anymore... You're right, Nancy-san, it's sometimes better to leave some things unread. There's no use if it'll bring us only darkness."

Nancy sighed, finally giving in to the urge to shake her head. "Yomiko..." she choked out with much affection. Moving close, Nancy wrapped her arms around Yomiko and kissed her.

They parted from each other, letting the warmth of the kiss evaporate in the air, like dissipating steam risen from a hot spring.²

The moment was broken as they noticed their comrades politely trying to avert their eyes and give them some privacy. It was officially over when Joker's voice came on the comm system.

"Agents? Agents, respond."

"Right here, Joker," Kirika answered.

"Thank goodness! We were only able to re-establish contact with you minutes ago. And right after that, we had temporarily lost The Paper's signal. Are you all right?"

"Ah... Yes, we're fine, Joker," Nancy said hurriedly.

"Good, Miss Deep. Mister Drake wishes to speak. He'll explain everything."

One short communications blip later, and their support man was patched through. "After another rematch with the bug boy, I've managed to grab control of Laputa. I think I've got a hang of all the gears and buttons, and I'm looking to land this thing so the rest of the library force can handle this."

Mireille and Kirika looked to each other. It was time to destroy the role that The Manor had in the creation of more darkness, and to bring down another center of evil. They were two idealistic organizations, but they had lost sight of the truth of humanity, twisting and distorting that truth to their own perverted ambitions. Without words, they agreed that they knew what to do with Laputa.

"Mister Drake," Mireille started curtly, "drop Laputa right on top of us."

Puzzlement was evident in his voice. "What?!"

"Just do it!"

"Alright, but I'll bring her down nice and easy so you have time to get out of there."

"Just as long as you destroy The Manor."

A slight grumble of disapproval followed. "Hrn... Fine. Get out of there, fast, cause I'm almost right over you."

Taking their cue, the all female team scrambled and started running for the surface side. Up flights of stairs, and phased through anything in their way, by way of Miss Deep's assistance. Making good time, they found themselves back in the antechamber where the face off began. They looked past the gaping holes in the stone and saw that the entire area outside was covered by a growing shadow.

"Yomiko-san, do you have any more paper?" asked Kirika.

The Paper searched her coat. Nothing.

Nevermind. They had to keep running forward and hope for the best. Hurdling over the stone debris and clambering over the remnants of walls to reach the open area of the wine grove. There, they found the wayward paper wasp munching on the vine foliage. All four of them looked up; Laputa was becoming a growing dot, and the area of the approaching shadow was getting bigger. They had no choice.

"Get rid of your braids," said Mireille.

"But-"

"We can redo them afterwards, Yomiko-chan," Nancy soothed her.

"Hai..." She ripped the paper ribbons out and shaking her head out, undid the braids. Her forelocks now loose and flowing, she approached the giant insect.

It reared back, ready to attack, but seemingly recognizing its rider, it calmed down. Yomiko shushed the paper wasp, distracting it while Mireille, Kirika, and Nancy mounted it. Joining them on the beast's back, The Paper tentatively tugged its antenna.

"Ah... Up! Fly! Please?"

Flapping its wings, emitting that droning buzz, it took to the sky and out of the crash radius, heading for home.

* * *

"Well, I left Laputa on autopilot; gravity can take care of the rest of the job. Joker, tell me those girls are out of there," Drake commented as he was heading for the edge of Laputa. Digging around his bag in hand, he had nothing left but a parachute inside it. His bag was now empty due to following further instructions: he planted every single remote mine and proximity bomb on hand at strategic points all over the base.

"Even better, Mister Drake."

"What do you mean by that?"

"They're right in front of you."

"Right in front of-" He saw the strangest sight in his life. His entire team was perched on the back of another mutated bug, parked and waiting for him to get on. The Paper was waving at him, giddy as a child.

"Drake-san! Drake-san! Hop on!"

"That woman is bad luck," he couldn't help but mutter.

"I think you really mean she is a blessing in disguise, Mister Drake."

"Yeah, yeah, Joker..." Pulling him up, he settled comfortably among the girls, straddling its already crowded thorax. Flying off into the horizon, they headed for the shelter of the mountains. "I'm telling you, after this, I never wanna see another bug. Ever."

"Did you manage to keep The Grand Reader out of the I-jin's clutches?" Joker asked.

"Of course, Joker!" replied Mireille.

"They wouldn't be here if they didn't," commented Drake. Pulling a remote from his vest pocket, he pressed a button. Secondary explosions went off in the background; he smiled as he observed his handiwork.

"Do you have it with you?"

"I'm... I'm afraid not," said Mireille.

"Would you care to explain?"

"The Paper and Miss Deep will tell you themselves-" Mireille stopped as Kirika tapped her shoulder and pointed at the two library agents.

"The Paper and Miss Deep will tell you in their official report," finished Kirika.

Sunset pink eyes met sky blue ones. They both looked so lovely, in the glow of the razing fires and background explosions, and in the luridly waning light of dusk. Faces gravitating towards each other's, the two of them kissed each other once again.

Giving the two forefront passengers their privacy, Noir looked behind them, watching as The Manor, its ruins, and its legacy were smashed off the face of the earth. Truly, it would now be forgotten by time and by the entire world. Facing forward into the mountain face and its carved foothills, they found the assembling forces of the British Royal Library Force waiting for their three top agents to return. And hopefully, they had obtained two more to join their ranks.

To be continued...

Author's Notes:  
0 - Borrowed this move from Spike Spiegel from that one Cowboy Bebop episode. Er... minus the giant insect creature blowing up.  
1 - I'll reiterate for those that don't know. Donnie Nakajima was the Paper Master before Yomiko; he held the agent title "The Paper" until his death. But in the meanwhile, he trained Yomiko to take his place until such an occasion did arise. He was Yomiko's teacher, her mentor, and her boyfriend. From what I read in the downloaded translations of the first volume of R.O.D manga (ah... I didn't even get the entire first volume, I'm still one chapter short), it was kept ambiguous how Donnie had died, so I thought I'd use him as some kind of guardian angel for our dear Yomiko.  
2 - Anyone who's gotten a chance to download the first volume, in the second chapter, Yomiko meets her favourite author Nenene Sumiregawa. Unfortunately, she met the author while she was at work, pressed for a deadline and trying to describe a kiss. So, in order to describe such a kiss for her book, she grabbed Yomiko and kissed her! I kinda borrowed description that came from such... inspiration.  
Looking at the the way these chapters have been put together, it's kinda funny how they turned out. If you want to say that there are four chapters, it could work out to be a chapter for each heroine. But then there is one chapter made of two parts; Noir is one name made up of two parts. Funny how the arrangement of chapters mirrors the ladies of this dream team. Or am I the only one that gets it?


	6. Epilogue

Disclaim or Die: Read Or Die (R.O.D) is copyrighted by and the property of Hideyuki Kurata, Akitaro Yamada, Studio Deen/SME, Sony, and currently licensed to Manga Entertainment. Noir is copyrighted by and the property of Ryoe Tsukimura, Bee Train, Victor Entertainment, Inc. and currently licensed to ADV Films.

**Ripped From the Pages  
Epilogue**

Sunlight shone through the clear skies, brightening and exposing the streets of Paris. To any ordinary citizen or tourist, there was nothing extraordinary to be noticed about this day, or any other day for that matter. Few of them knew that a dark and soiled underground lurked beneath them, and even less knew that the light shining for them today was almost put out. Almost blotted out by the looming shadow of a floating sky base, broadcasting a song of genocide.

Fortunately, such a bleak fate for the world was prevented by a handful of people. They stopped the shadow from falling upon the world, and they stopped the ambitious evil from realizing and grabbing onto its ill-gotten destiny.

Two of those people were strolling along the open-air shops and cafés of gay Paris. They were on their way to visit the other two that helped them achieve that victory over evil. One of them looked longingly at the bookstores while the other led them by the hand, trying to guide them away from such distractions.

Coming along a small break in the shops was a shaded alley. The leader peeked into the crevice, then giggling and playfully tugging her arm, she pulled her companion into the alleyway, travois and all.

"Come on, Yomiko-chan, we don't want to be late."

"B-but, Nancy-san! I wanted to see the bookstores! They might have the latest novel by my favourite author, Nenene Sumiregawa!"º

"We're going to a bookstore, silly. It's been months since we've last seen them, and goodness knows I would hate to be rude by standing them up."

Yomiko looked down apologetically, like an errant child. "Gomen ne, Nancy-san."

Giggling again, Nancy kissed her lover's cheek. "You're forgiven."

The two of them looked up, finding a small corner shop tucked away into the brick wall. The only indication that it was there was a dark oak wood door with immaculately polished glass frames, and a mildly dingy window displaying its wares. A sign hung over the door, a white rectangle with an open book being the image on it; carved inside its page was the name of the bookstore: _Carte Blanche_.

Pushing on the door and opening it, they triggered the tiny bell that hung on the other end of its frame. The tinkling jingle-jangle filled the quiet store, alerting the owners inside of their arrival. Peeking their heads about and expecting to find a dimly lit interior, they were slightly surprised that an abundance of sunlight filtered itself through the smudged dirt-streaked windows, bathing and exposing all inside.

The sunlight hit a blonde head, turning it golden, and it looked up from the account books sitting on the counter to spy her visitors. Mireille genuinely smiled at them; it was good to see such friendly faces again.

"Kirika! They're here!" she called out to her partner.

The ever petite and waifish Kirika entered from the backroom. Upon catching sight of her former comrades, she smiled brightly, widely, genuinely; those rare expressions of happiness were now becoming more and more frequent.

Cheekily smiling back, Yomiko reached into the folds of her trench coat and discreetly pulled out a small package.

"Kirika-chan, catch!"

She threw it at the girl, who in turn caught the small box, with barely batting an eye. Credit it to her conditioned quick reflexes.

"Darjeeling tea," she read aloud.

"Hai! And it's authentically from India!"

"Thank you, Yomiko-san." She bowed curtly. "I truly appreciate this gift. I'll make some tea, right away!" With that, she disappeared back into the storeroom to put the kettle on and prepare the tea with her usual precision and meticulousness, savouring such a mundane task.

"How has the Carte Blanche been doing?" Nancy asked, making conversation.

Mireille shook her head and closed the account books. "Business isn't exactly booming; it's actually quiet, for one thing. For once, I'm relieved that it is."

"Now, now, don't give me that peace and quiet excuse. You must get your thrills somewhere else," the bluenette prodded and teased.

"Oh yes! That reminds me!" Cheerily, Yomiko pulled up her briefcase to lie on the counter in front of Mireille; she opened it up, revealing neatly tucked rows of high numbered bills. "Thank you so much for donating the Cosa Nostra-Soldats contract... and for using this store to track down the kikou books still on the black market, or any rare books the Library needs to find... and for your participation in that other document recovery mission..." The Paper began to ramble off, using her hands to count off the times the former Noir assisted them, and quickly caught herself. "Ah, I guess I should just say many, many thanks from the Royal British Library Division of Special Operations!"

Mireille smirked and examined the currency that would be put away in their safe, pretending that it was the only thing that mattered to her. "It's about time you paid me. I was waiting for our compensation ever since our first mission together!"

"You're worse than Drake-san!"

Getting up from her seat, the Corsican crossed the tiny room, and navigated with grace to a small furniture decorated corner; the woman sat down on one of the four plush armchairs situated there. Kirika soon reappeared, presenting a silver tray laden with fine china teacups, and laid it down on a small table in the center of the domestic island.

Each of the respective pairs took to a seat, partners sitting beside each other. Lovers held each other's hands and friends sipped their tea, engrossed in animated conversation and politely looking about the room. The Carte Blanche had indeed done quite well for itself, quiet and out of the way, not letting on to how deep its connections had run.

The store was lined wall to wall with immaculately categorized shelves. Displayed on these shelves were hundreds of rare and old books of many origins, many of them purchased from the black market and other underground markets with the accumulated blood money of the former Noir. That money, rid of by being put into a somewhat legitimate business, started this small store.

Strangely, Soldats had not come after them for any arising activity the two were involved in. Their guns had been traded in for with old and dusty tomes, replaced with scraps of aged pressed wood pulp and ink. Maybe that was enough to make the shadowy organization think they were benign to them. Or maybe the arms of the Library Force really were all encompassing and all protective. Whichever one it was, it granted the two maidens - no, it granted Mireille Bouquet and Kirika Yuumura, the solitude to seek their light.

They had help seeking it with their sporadic teammates with The Paper and Miss Deep. The pair hadn't changed so much since they last saw them. Yomiko Readman still earnestly pursued the written word in all its forms, with wide-eyed childish innocence and reckless abandon. And always to keep her in check, standing by her side was her ever contradictive, playful/serious, strong yet gentle lover, Nancy Makuhari. A shining example to the rewards of pursuing purely knowledge and truth, those two being another form of that metaphorical light.

Four chairs, four females, four friends sat in their intimate circle and caught up on old times, surrounded and bound by words, bound by books, bound by truth that brought them together.

The End

Author's Notes:  
0 - Nenene Sumiregawa is a teenaged authoress that Yomiko saved from an obsessed fan: Marihara Kazumi, who was mentioned in chapter 2's footnotes. She is only featured in the manga, the novels, and also will make a cameo appearance in the latest R.O.D anime: Read Or Dream. I also mentioned her in the footnotes of chapter 3B, having to have kissed Yomiko for inspiration. Funny enough, Yomiko was surprised at how Nenene could waste her first kiss while Yomiko was currently on her second one!  
All right! Done and done! {breathes a sigh of relief} It is finished, my Read Or Die/Noir crossover! This work has been in progress since fall of 2002, the idea coming to mind since August of 2002. I'm glad to have struggled with long bouts of writer's block, railroaded by school and work, and succumbing to mad fits of inspiration stricken insomnia to get this story out there to you. This story may not be perfect, but it is my creation, crafted in my vision, and I am finally satisfied that I've gotten it out of my system, for your entertainment and mine. Reviews displaying your comments and your criticism are greatly appreciated, for I can finally reap the fruits of my labour.


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